


Until Death Calls My Name

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, High Fantasy, Magic-Users, Minor Character Death, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-14 19:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: A great enemy is threatening the land, so the kingdoms of Angelia and Daemonia must put aside their animosity and form an alliance through the marriage of Prince Castiel and Queen Meg.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a prompt for [elantil-arcacia](elantil-arcacia.tumblr.com) in [my blog](inkbleeder.tumblr.com).

Castiel stared at the face of his future wife, his stomach twisting up in a knot. She had long black hair that fell on her shoulders on loose curls and big brown eyes that seemed to stare back at him, lively and passionate. There was something mischievous about her smile, something that contradicted the crown of flowers and the bridal white dress she had been painted with, obviously meaning to attract possible suitors. She was a pretty woman, but there was no way to know if she truly looked anything like the portrait the Daemonai had sent to the castle. He knew he didn’t like the portrait of him that they had sent to her: the artist had made his nose look smaller than it actually was, but also exaggerated his chin and how big his blue eyes looked, because usually he squinted them when he wanted to focus on something. Like he was doing right then.

“What if Queen Meg and I don’t… like each other?” he asked out loud.

“With everything else going on, Cas, I think that will be the least of your worries,” Anna, his sister, said.

She was right, of course. The Daemonai had been their sworn enemies for centuries. The only reason they hadn’t been at war with the Angeli as often as they would have liked was because they constantly had to deal with uprisings and betrayals within their own kingdom. The last one, for what they could tell, had been particularly violent: it had claimed the lives of King Azazel and Prince Tom, and the turncoat, a Lord with the name of Crowley, had ran away and was apparently gathering support to give it another try. The only member of the Deamonai’s royal family, the recently crowned Queen Meg, had sent a diplomatic mission to meet with Castiel’s brother, King Gabriel, making a very compelling argument about putting aside their differences and uniting their kingdoms through a marriage.

She’d offered herself to be Gabriel’s queen.

“Woah, they must be _really_ desperate,” Gabriel had commented once the diplomats had retired to let the Royal Family and their advisors discuss the matter.

“For what I heard, this Meg is not a very clean sort,” Lord Benjamin Lafitte had said. As Master of Espionage, of course he would have all that information available to him. “She did some unsavory things to Crowley’s supporters… the ones she could get her hands on, of course. Some of my reports even assure me she practices black magic.”

“Well, that’s all I need to hear,” Gabriel had said, tossing Meg’s letter to the side.

“But Lord Crowley is involved with dark magic for sure,” Lafitte had continued. “His mother was the infamous witch Rowena McLeod. And he is greedy: if he manages to take the Daemonai throne for himself again, he will surely invade our kingdom next.”

“We can fight him,” Lord Dean Winchester had said, shrugging. “Our military prowess is far superior, which I’m sure Meg knows…”

“Crowley is looking to hire the Leviathans,” Lord Lafitte had informed them.

A heavy silence had fallen on the room. The Leviathans were mercenaries, the bloodiest kind there was. Legends of their cruelty were the kind of tales people told their young children to get them to behave. They weren’t cheap, but perhaps the promise of the riches of the Angeli kingdom was enough to tempt them into working with Crowley.

“For once in your life, can you bring me good news, Benny?” Gabriel had groaned. “What do you think, Sam?”

Samuel Winchester, Dean’s younger brother, had been quiet during the entire deliberation. It was an open secret that he and King Gabriel were… very close friends. Gabriel made no attempt to hide it, calling him pet names in front of everyone and taking him to every important meeting, even though he was a second son and therefore, technically, didn’t hold as much power as his brother. Sam was a good man and had apparently no ambitions for himself, which was probably the only reason everybody turned a blind eye to the whole affair. Right then, for example, he had proven his loyalty to the kingdom was greater than his personal feelings by saying:

“Crowley is a dangerous man, Gabriel. I think you should… at least consider Meg’s offer.”

He had gone quiet quickly and looked away. If he even attempted to hide his heartbreak, he did a very poor job at it.

“Yeah, still, I’m not marrying her,” Gabriel had decided. “Cas, you’re going to have to do it.”

Castiel was so startled that for several seconds all he could do was stutter:

“Gabriel… I mean, you… you honor me, brother… but I don’t think…”

“It’s an order,” Gabriel had snapped.

And that was pretty much it.

Later that night, Gabriel called Castiel to have dinner with him.

“I was never really meant to wear this,” the king commented, taking the crown off his head and leaving it on the table. “You and I know that.”

He was right. Gabriel and Castiel were the second and third sons, respectively, and they had known all their lives that they wouldn’t even enter the line of succession. The crown should have gone to their oldest brother, Michael, and his future sons. Gabriel was supposed to be left alone to his wines and his handsome boys. But a hunting accident, years ago, had changed all of that. Michael had died impaled by a boar’s tusk, leaving no heirs to take his place, and Gabriel had had to step into a role he hated.

“Look, we both knew that if there was ever going to be an heir, it would have to come from you,” he told Castiel, with brutal honesty. “Sooner or later, you had to get married. Queen Meg is as good as any noblewoman and we get to go down in history for doing something our grandparents couldn’t do: sign a peace treaty with the Daemonai. There are worse ways to be remembered.”

Castiel had to concede his brother was right.

“Who knows? Maybe once you put a son in her belly, I’ll leave this thing to you,” Gabriel continued, making a contemptuous gesture towards the crown. “I’m sure you’d be a better king than I’ll ever be.”

“Gabriel, don’t jest like that.”

“Who says I am?” Gabriel said, for once letting the bitterness he truly felt seep through his features.

Queen Meg had accepted the counteroffer of marrying Castiel pretty quickly. Perhaps she too had spies in their kingdom that had informed her of Gabriel’s lack of interest for women. She had sent a portrait and a very short letter addressed to “My husband-to-be”, saying she wished they would be happy together. And had a fruitful marriage. They couldn’t forget about that part.

That was the reason Castiel had gone to talk to Anna that day. With five children and expecting a sixth, she was the most “fruitful” person of their family.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Cas,” Anna told him. “For the things that I’ve heard, she may not even be a maiden.”

That would be a great scandal and a secret Castiel was willing to take to his grave. If he had been Michael, he wouldn’t have accepted anything but a virgin bride and certainly not one who had the suspicion of witchcraft floating over her head. But Gabriel was right, this peace treaty was far too important to let religious or morals considerations get in the way.

That wasn’t what he was worried about, however.

“Well, even if she isn’t,” he said, hoping his face wasn’t turning as red as it felt. “How do I…? I mean, what do I have to…?”

He shut up. Anna was staring at him with worry in her face.

“Castiel, you do know how to make love to a woman, don’t you?” she asked.

Castiel stared down at his shoes.

“How can you…? I know Dean Winchester took you to the whorehouse!” Anna said, raising her voice.

Castiel didn’t know what was more humiliating: that Anna was aware of that detail or what he was forced to confess now.

“I couldn’t… I tried,” he said, fumbling with his fingers. “But I just wasn’t… it was a den of iniquity, Anna. I couldn’t go through with it.”

Anna made a weird face. It was almost as if she didn’t know if she should laugh or shake her head in concern. In the end, she chose the latter.

“Well, just… just be gentle with her,” she suggested in the end. “Touch her, kiss her… until she’s ready.”

“How will I know when she’s ready?”

“Trust me. You’ll know.”

 

* * *

 

Queen Meg arrived less than a week later, in a carriage pulled by four impressive black horses. Castiel was standing on the castle’s yard, along with Gabriel, Anna, her husband Gadreel, and all of their sons and daughters. Behind them stood the Winchesters and Benny, all looking solemn as the carriage rolled closer. The coachman pulled the horses’ reins to stop them and jumped from his seat to open the door.

Castiel held his breath.

The first thing he saw from his bride was a gloved hand. She hanged onto the coachman as she delicately stepped down from the carriage. She was wearing a purple dress with a black cloak to shelter her from the cold. It was almost spring (in fact, they would be married on the equinox, two days from now), but the breeze was still cold, so that wasn’t surprising. What Castiel found strange was that she had pulled the hood on to obscure her features.

“Queen Megan of Daemonia,” the page announced.

The nobles of lower rank immediately bended their knees, while Castiel and his family bowed their heads respectfully. Queen Meg took a couple of steps until she stood in front of them and only them she pulled her hood back.

She looked nothing like her portrait. Castiel deduced it must have been painted a few years back, when her face still had the roundness of childhood. She was a nineteen year old woman now and she seemed much different. Her hair was black as the night and her eyes were big and brown, but her cheeks were sharper and her nose was narrower than in her portrait. Her lips, also, were quite different, fuller and redder than they had been there and he couldn’t help but to wonder if that was natural or if she had applied something on them to give them that glossy look.

Regardless or it, she was so gorgeous that for an instant, Castiel’s breath got caught in his throat.

And when she smiled, he saw the same mischievousness the portrait had conveyed.

She grabbed the skirt of her dress and bowed before Gabriel.

“Welcome to our kingdom, your Grace,” Gabriel greeted her, for once acting just like the king he was supposed to be.

“Many thanks,” Meg replied. Her voice was a smoky whisper than sent a shiver down Castiel’s back. “I’m very pleased to be here and that our people can finally put aside years of hate and disputes.”

“Well, enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” Gabriel commented, and that sounded a lot more than him. Castiel feared that Meg would be put off by his informality, but she merely smirked again.

“Well said,” she agreed. She moved her face to the side and her eyes met Castiel’s.

His knees trembled a little and he forgot the words he was supposed to say.

Luckily for him, Meg clued him in by removing her glove and offering him her hand. Castiel grabbed it quickly and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Her skin was smooth and cold as ice and when he let go of her, his heart was pounding hard in his chest.

“Welcome, my queen,” he muttered.

“Prince Castiel,” she greeted him and immediately turned her attention towards her carriage once more, as if he was of no more interest to her than her horses. A second woman had descended from the carriage, also wrapped in a black cloak. Meg beckoned to her and she approached them with great strides. “This is Countess Ruby, my lady-in-waiting and my dearest friend.”

Ruby bowed almost distractedly to Gabriel before turning the full force of her dark gaze towards Castiel.

“This is him?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yes.”

“He’ll do.”

Meg hastily changed the topic, as if the exchanged hadn’t happened at all.

“If you would be so kind to indicate her where I’ll be staying, she will make sure all my possessions are taken there. As for me, I wouldn’t mind having some refreshment. It’s been a long journey.”

Gabriel seemed as taken aback by the Daemonai women’s straightforwardness as Castiel felt. But the king shook his head like a dog coming out of the water and recovered fast.

“Of course. Anna will guide the Countess to your chambers. You may come with me and Castiel to have something to drink.”

“Much obliged.”

Meg was so graceful and kind when they sat in Gabriel’s chamber to eat some fresh fruit and drink wine that Castiel started thinking that all those terrible stories about her had to be nothing more than rumors product of the widespread prejudice against the Daemonai. She asked Gabriel about the wine they were drinking and let him ramble on about the vintage and the kind of grapes it had come from.

“You have to really taste it, the hint of flowers is right there…”

“It’s delicious,” Meg assured him. “But to be honest with you, I’m partial to mead.”

“We have some!” Gabriel said, standing up, apparently excited that someone had come to share his enthusiasm for alcohol. “I’ll be right back with it.”

He bolted out of the room, leaving a deep, awkward silence behind him. Castiel shifted on his seat, nervously watching his future’s wife profile. He didn’t even know how to start a conversation with her, how was he supposed to spend the rest of his life…?

Meg slowly turned her gaze towards him.

“Your artist didn’t do you justice, my prince,” she commented.

“Oh?” Castiel said. It was as if suddenly he had forgotten how to speak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is… is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” She grinned. “It’s actually quite a relief.”

Castiel swallowed. He tried not to think about the fact this was the first real conversation he was having with her.

“Yours didn’t do a great job either,” he said. “You’re much more… radiant than your portrait lets on.”

She laughed. It was a titillating sound that made Castiel shiver again. Meg turned her entire body towards him and dragged her chair just a little closer.

“Well?” she asked, crooking an eyebrow at him.

“Well…?” Castiel repeated. Was this woman ever going to stop confusing him?

“Are you going to go down on your knees or…?”

Castiel realized what a fool he had had been. Of course, it was understood that they were going to get married no matter what, but the tradition dictated he still had to explicitly ask her to do it and she still had to say yes on the first occasion the two were together. In other circumstances, he would have had to do it in front of her father, but since he was dead, this was going to have to do.

“Of course. Forgive me.” He put the chalice on the table and practically stumbled as he stood up. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Queen Meg,” he began, as he slowly lowered his knee to the ground, his eyes never leaving hers. Meg’s hands were resting on her lap and he dared to grab one and hold it close to him. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” she said, with a smirk. Castiel thought was all, and started to get up, but Meg squeezed his hand so tight it startled him. She leaned closer to him, bringing a faint scent of lavender that tingled in his nose. “And will you become my king, Castiel? Will you be mine?”

Castiel’s mouth hanged agape. Did she have to ask if he already had? Was this a Daemonai thing?

“Yes,” he said, quickly. “I will be your husband and your king, from the moment we’re married until the moment of my death.”

Meg studied his face for a moment longer.

“So be it,” she whispered.

A cold gust of air blew through his hair. For heartbeat or two, her eyes seemed wider and blacker than ink, without a hint of white or brown in them. But then she blinked and they were back to normal. Castiel chalked it up to a trick of the lights and forgot all about it when Gabriel returned with the mead.

 

* * *

 

They were married in early in the morning in the cathedral, in front of all the Angeli nobility. It was a long, soporific ceremony from the moment they knelt in front the altar and as the bishop droned on and one about the importance of fidelity and the strengthening of bonds. Castiel had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from yawning and when he snatched a glance at Meg, he was relieved to discover she seemed as bored with that whole ordeal as he was. But despite her expression, she looked beautiful in her white wedding gown, with orange flowers and pine branches crowning her hair. Anna had tried to get her to wear a tiara or even a veil, but Ruby had insisted.

“The flower crown is a tradition in Daemonia,” she said. “It’s meant to bless the union with fertility.”

“It’s almost a pagan gesture,” Anna had complained to both Gabriel and Castiel. “The bishop will not take well to it. And when I left, Ruby was preparing some sort of weird beverage? I don’t like it…”

“Oh, let them,” Gabriel replied, rolling his eyes. “As long as we’re not in the middle of tearing each other apart when Crowley comes with his Leviathans and kills us all, I could care less if she eats a dead baby in front of the bishop.”

He was rather nervous, drinking heavily… well, more than usual, that was. It took Castiel no time to find out Benny’s spies had come with the information that it was a given Crowley was working with the Leviathans. Meg seemed to have found out as well, because she had announced during dinner that they would go back to Daemonia after the wedding night.

“It’s not that I have not enjoyed your hospitality,” she’d told Gabriel. “It’s just that I need to tend to some urgent matters. Plus, I want my people to meet their new king.”

Gabriel had granted their permission.

The bishop finally indicated them to stand up and come closer to the altar.

“I bind your hands now, as God binds your lives,” he said, as he tied the traditional red ribbon around their wrists. “And what God has bound together, no mortal man can break apart.”

And that was it. They were married. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief as they turned around and raised their hands for all the witnesses to see. They were supposed to keep the ribbon until that night and then place it underneath the mattress, but Castiel found it quite difficult to climb the white stallion waiting for them at the cathedral steps with only one hand free. Meg was patient as he maneuvered her up and wrapped his arms around her to grab the reins.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Are all Angeli ceremonies this long?” Meg complained.

Castiel let out a chuckle.

“It was quite long,” he admitted. “But it’s over. We’re married.”

A playful smirk appeared on her lips.

“Oh, no. Not yet.”

Castiel shivered at the thought, but he managed to keep the smile on as they paraded through the city streets towards the castle. The plebe hailed them and threw flower petals in their wake. Some of them clapped or cheered, but Castiel distinctly remembered there being a lot more enthusiasm when Anna had got married to Lord Gadreel.

“They don’t approve of me,” Meg commented, as if she had read his mind. She still kept smiling and waving at the crowd as if it was nothing. “They don’t like that you’ve married a Daemoni whore.”

“No one would dare call you that,” Castiel said, frowning.

“Not to our faces, no.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. They don’t understand the reason behind this marriage and I pray to the gods that they never have to.”

Castiel took notice that she had said “gods”. Perhaps Anna was right in her assessment that some forbidden pagan ceremonies were still alive and well in Daemonia. It might cause some friction with the church in the future if that was the case.

He had no time to think about that. The moment they set a foot in the castle, Gabriel declared the party had started.

The afternoon went by in a blur. There was much more food than anyone could possibly eat and Meg graciously suggested the remains to be given out to the less fortunate among the townsfolk. There were jesters and actors that played wonderful tricks and comedies, making everyone laugh to their hearts content. Castiel tried to relax and enjoy the spectacle and the feast, but he remained painfully aware of what would come afterwards, especially whenever Meg moved her hand to grab and squeeze his or when she turned to him with an inviting smile to comment on something. She ate and drank very little herself, so perhaps her confidence was as faked as his.

Finally, the servants brought forth the wedding pie and after they cut it by holding the knife together as they were supposed to, the musicians came out and the dancing began. Castiel had always been clumsy when it came to those things, but Meg was a marvelous dancer: she guided his hand around her waist and led him across the floor, laughing and spinning, her wedding gown twirling around her legs and her long hair floating as some of the flowers and branches fell to her feet. Castiel couldn’t take his eyes of her. In the light of the torches the servants were beginning to light, she looked like a spirit of the forest that had come to celebrate with him.

He didn’t even realize she was leading him towards the stairs until they were standing on the first steps. The commotion of the party was left behind them as Meg grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him closer to her. Her mouth was on him before Castiel even realized it, the smell of lavender and the taste of mead overflowing his senses.

“Meg,” he breathed out against her.

“It’s time we celebrate our wedding night, Castiel,” she muttered. “You promised to be mine. Now you have to keep your word.”

Castiel tried and failed to think straight. The party wasn’t over. They should go back to their guests. Someone was sure to notice their absence. The king had to give them their blessing before they could lie together. But none of those excuses seemed important, not when Meg was guiding him upstairs and down the halls, as if she had lived her entire life in that castle and knew exactly where she was going.

She pushed his chambers doors open and pulled him inside with her. Castiel stumbled after her, the echo of his own heartbeat drowning the noise coming from the ongoing celebration downstairs. She kissed him again, more aggressively this time, nibbling his lower lip and pressing her body against him. Her small breasts poked through the thin fabric of the dress and he lost his mind. He grabbed her by the waist and spun around with her, pinning her against the wall before kissing her again. All the desire pent up in him from the moment he set his eyes on her came rushing down on him. He placed a hand over her neck, feeling her quickened pulse beating underneath her skin, as her tongue slipped into his mouth and her nails sank softly in the back of his neck.

“Meg…” he repeated, when they broke away to breathe. “We don’t have to do it tonight. We can wait…”

“No, we can’t,” Meg whispered, shaking her head slightly. “Crowley is coming. We have to produce an heir, something tangible to prove our kingdoms’ alliance. A year from now, it might just be too late.”

“How do you know this?” Castiel asked.

She didn’t answer. She simply grabbed his hand again and stepped into his bedroom.

The window was open wide, the full moon light pouring into the room, bathing everything in silver glow. Castiel noticed the petals spread on the covers and the pillows and couldn’t help to wonder who would have done that. Meg untied their wrists in a single, fluid movement and put the ribbon on his hands.

“Do what your people do,” she told him. “And I’ll do what mine does.”

Castiel didn’t question it. He placed the ribbon underneath the mattress and looked at the intricate ties that held Meg’s wedding gown in place. He was about to ask if she needed help taking it off, but she moved her hair aside, found the end of one of them and pulled. All the knots came undone easily and Meg slid the gown off her shoulders and down her body, letting it pool at her feet.

Castiel’s breath hitched. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath the dress. She stood with her face raised to the moon, a full moon so enormous it took up the entire window. His eyes travelled down the curve of her back and her butt as she spread her hands and muttered to herself words he couldn’t quite catch. When she was done, she turned around. Castiel tried to keep his mouth from watering at the sight. Her rosy nipples stood hardened in the cool air. A bush of thin dark hair grew between her legs. Unashamed in her nakedness, she knelt on the bed, waiting for him.

“Take off your clothes,” she instructed in a breathy whisper.

She didn’t need to tell him twice. Castiel did away with his shirt and his trousers as quickly as his trembling hands allowed him to. Meg studied him with the same attention that he had given to her and for once, the confidence which we she acted disappeared when she set her eyes upon his growing erection. She crawled up closer to him and almost curiously stretched her hand to stroke it with her long, soft fingers. Castiel shuddered under her touch.

“Meg…”

“So that’s what the fuss is all about,” she commented, with a chuckle.

That surprised Castiel. He looked down at her with eyes wide open.

“You… you’ve never…?”

“I was born a princess, Castiel,” Meg reminded him. “I always knew that I couldn’t give people reason to doubt the legitimacy of my children when I married.”

There went another myth about her. She had reached his bed a maiden.

Meg must have confused his disconcert with uneasiness, because she shifted to sit at the edge of the bed, closer to him still.

“I do know some things,” she said, sheepishly. “Ruby taught me.”

“She taught you?” Castiel repeated, frowning.

Instead of explaining, Meg decided to do a practical demonstration. She leaned her head forwards and took the tip of his cock into her mouth. Castiel let out a deep moan as he felt himself stiffening further against her tongue, his skin growing sensitive with every lick and lap she gave. Her hands grabbed him by the buttocks to him closer to her and he sank inch by inch into her mouth. Her hot breath caressed his lower stomach right before she hollowed out her cheeks to suck him. He closed his eyes and sank his hands in her hair, letting the ecstasy wash over him for a second, resisting the urge to push into her, resisting the urge to…

Meg bobbed her head back, her teeth scraping him ever so lightly before she released him. She looked adorable, with her hair tangled and her cheeks flushed.

“No, you can’t spill yet,” she told him.

“Right,” he mumbled, trying to catch his breath.

Meg moved back to lie on the bed, her eyes on him expectantly.

Castiel was ever so glad that he had listened to all of Dean’s bragging about his escapades and conquests. It probably wasn’t as thoroughly as Ruby’s teachings (what kind of lady in waiting was she, anyway?), but at least it was something. He knelt between her barely spread legs and kissed her on the forehead.

“I haven’t… I haven’t been with a woman either,” he confessed.

Meg crooked an eyebrow, perplexed.

“Really? I mean, I knew Angeli were religious fanatics, but isn’t there a whorehouse in this country?”

Castiel refused to even acknowledge the question. He wrapped his arms around Meg and moved closer to her.

“If I’m doing something wrong… something you don’t like, you’ll have to tell me.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

Again there was that curious look in her eyes, as if she was trying to figure out what Castiel would do next. He swallowed loudly before lowering his mouth to her neck. Meg breathed in deeply and her body tensed for a second when he placed a hand over her breast. She lifted her hips a little bit, as if she expected Castiel to go into her right at that moment, but she was still too anxious, almost as if she wanted to rush things along and be done with them.

Castiel didn’t want that. He wanted her to enjoy their wedding night, at least as much as he was.

He drew slow circles over her nipple, marveling at the way it hardened underneath his fingertips. Meg closed her eyes and let out a soft moan, slowly but surely beginning to relax. He left a trail of kisses down her collarbone, his hands moving down her stomach until they reached her mound. She wasn’t as cold between her legs as she had been in the rest of her body. And touching her there was… different. Her flesh was tender and damp, and when he traced his fingers along, looking for the opening he knew was there, Meg’s body tensed once more. Her breathing became shallower and her grip around his neck tightened.

Castiel immediately lifted up his head.

“Is this… correct?” he asked, unsure.

“You… you have to…” she shook her head and moved her own hand down, guiding his fingers a little further up. His thumb brushed a little protuberance and Meg’s body arched up as a huge grin appeared on her face. “Yes… right there!”

Castiel pressed again, tentatively, and earned another hum of encouragement. He looked at her face closely as he continued to touch her, the slickness over his fingers growing more and more. Meg writhed and moaned underneath him, as beads of sweat bloomed on her forehead. Her lips tasted salty when they kissed again, and when he ran his fingers down her sex, he found she was opening for him like a flower.

Anna was right. He did know when she was ready.

Castiel moved to cover her with his body and Meg immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, eagerly pulling him closer to her. But despite all his ministration, she still cringed when he sank inside of her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Meg closed her eyes and breathed in deeply a couple of times. She clang onto his shoulders and nodded.

“Yes,” she mumbled. “You have to move, Castiel. You have to… oh!”

Castiel took a nipple into his mouth and sucked just as gently as she had before, hoping to distract her, hoping to get her to enjoy it. He had heard the stories, of course: that girls were supposed to hurt when they lost their maidenhead, they were supposed to bleed. But he didn’t want that. He wanted to assure his wife he was never going to hurt her.

Meg’s nails dragged across his scalp.

“You’re so sweet on me.”

And there she went, reading his mind again. Castiel was too taken in by her, by her lavender perfume mixed with the musky scent of her excitement and her sweat to really care about that right then. He rolled his hips tentatively, containing the impulse to thrust into her, trying to go as slow as she needed him to. It took some time for Meg to get used to the feeling, but when she did, she let him know, loudly and without a doubt.

“Faster!” she demanded, raising her body to meet with his again. “I can take it, Cas. Please, oh, please…”

She bit her lips, but when she threw her head back and let out another moan, Castiel knew he was doing something right. He intertwined his fingers with hers, their skins alight thanks to the friction. A pleasant tingling started growing into his lower stomach and a fog of desperation, of pure need for release, clouded his mind. Meg muttered his name in his ear and her grip became like around his wrist over his skin.

“I’m almost there,” she muttered. “A little more, Cas, please. I need to…”

He wouldn’t last that long. He wrapped his arm around her waist and sat up, lifting her up with him, so now they were straight up on the bed. Meg held onto him with both hands around his neck, her mouth clashing into his artlessly, their teeth clattering against each other a second before she laughed and opened it for him to slip his tongue inside. Now it was her that was marking the rhythm, lifting herself and falling back onto his cock, and her movements were becoming erratic and just as desperate as his. Castiel maneuvered a hand between them and found the small protuberance again, pressing and caressing it, instinctively knowing that was what she needed. Meg stiffened and her eyes went black, as black as a starless night. She bit into his lip with so much force she drew blood.

The pleasure Castiel had been keeping at bay invaded him and he spilled deep inside of her, his lungs letting out all the air he was holding almost at the same time. He lost his balance and dragged Meg on the bed with him when he toppled down on the covers.

It took what felt like several minutes for him to come back from the heights his pleasure had sent him to. When he opened his eyes, Meg was right next to him on the bed, her humid hair spread on the pillow and her chest raising and falling rapidly. Without thinking too much, he crawled closer to her and cuddled her against himself. They were fine for now, but in a few seconds the sweat would dry over their skins and they would start feeling cold. Meg sank her face in his shoulder, her hand limpidly falling over his chest.

“Dammit,” she muttered. It wasn’t a very queenly expression, but Castiel couldn’t help but to agree.

“Is it… do you think it’s always like this?” he asked, tangling his fingers on her hair.

“Oh, gods, I certainly hope so.”

The looked at each other in the faint moonlight. Meg’s eyes weren’t black anymore, but her lips were swollen and her face was adorably red. She smiled at him, and Castiel smiled back, and a heartbeat later, they were both laughing uncontrollably. For everything, and for no reason at all.

 

* * *

 

Castiel woke up early in the morning. The sunrays were barely starting to seep into the room, but it was clear enough to see Meg’s outline on the other side of the bed. She had rolled away during the night and now she was sleeping with her back turned to him, peaceful and immobile. Castiel stretched his hands to toy with her curls and he inched closer with the idea of waking her with a kiss…

“Shit!”

The figure in black in the corner of his room startled him so much he almost jumped out of his skin. The brusque movement woke Meg up, who raised her head and blinked groggily at him.

“What… what is it?”

“How the hell did you get in here?” Castiel asked, not paying attention to his wife. He remembered he was naked and hastily tried to pull the covers to hide himself a bit.

Ruby took a step closer to the bed, apparently not at all affected by her sovereigns’ nudity.

“I apologize,” she said, although she didn’t sound sorry at all. “I just thought your Majesties would like to know that the carriage for our departure will be ready later this morning. I tried to have it earlier but… the servants apparently also had a lot of fun last night.”

She wrinkled her nose, as if she despised the idea of the servitude doing anything other than serve or maybe the idea of fun itself. It was hard to tell.

“Oh,” Meg muttered and rubbed her eyes. “It’s… it’s fine, Ruby. Castiel has to say goodbye to his siblings after all.”

“Very well,” Ruby said.

She stood right where she was. Castiel was going to ask her what her problem was, but Meg simply sat on the bed and leaned back a little, exposing her breast and her stomach for her lady-in-waiting. Ruby placed a hand over it. For several heartbeats, neither of them moved, as if they were listening attentively for something. In the end, Ruby shook her head.

“It may take a couple more tries, my queen,” she determined.

Meg looked over her shoulder at Castiel and then back at Ruby.

“It won’t be a problem,” she promised. “Leave us now.”

Ruby gave them a quick bow and exited the room as silently as she had walked into it.

“How could she possibly know that?” Castiel asked.

Meg stood up and grimaced a little.

“I’m aching all over,” she commented, with a chuckle. “You?”

Now that she mentioned it, Castiel’s muscles were quite sore. But that didn’t really answer his question.

“Meg,” he called her. She was already slipping the violet dress Ruby had left for her, once again not even bothering to put something underneath it. “Meg!”

“We must get on our way,” she said, as if he had asked nothing at all. “It’s going to be a long journey to my castle, but the way is plane enough that we can catch some sleep…”

She turned towards the door and Castiel, he knew with the same instinct that indicated him that ladies-in-waiting couldn’t know if an heir had been conceived after one night and that women’s eyes didn’t go black when they climaxed, that she was never going to answer his questions if he let her walk out of the room.

He moved quickly enough that he could grab her arm before she left.

“Meg, tell me what’s going on here.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, struggling to shrug him off.

“I’m your husband,” he reminded her, indignant. “I’m your king. You made me promise that I’d be yours and I am. Whatever threat looms over you, it looms over me too. So please… tell me.”

Slowly, Meg raised her eyes at him. The playful smirk he had come to know, even after such a short time, appeared on her again.

“It’s very distracting to have a conversation when you’re dress like that, my lord.”

Castiel looked down and realized he hadn’t even bothered to bring the covers with him when he had got up. He felt the blood rushing to his face, but he stood his ground, even when Meg laughed at him. However, she went quiet quickly and a serious look appeared in her eyes.

“There is certain ancient knowledge reserved only to women, Castiel,” she said. “I can tell you what it does, but I can’t tell you how it’s acquired.”

“Is it… is it magic?” he asked, apprehension growing in his stomach.

“I guess the common folk would call it that.”

Castiel’s heart sank a little. This wasn’t the kind of information one would like to receive the morning after their wedding night.

Meg sensed his agitation and moved closer to leave a kiss on the edge of his lips.

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “You will never have anything to fear from me. I’m yours as you are mine, until the god of death calls my name.”

And for reasons Castiel couldn’t have explained out loud, he believed her.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning after their wedding night, Castiel had to endure Gabriel’s jokes about how he was so eager to bed his wife the two had disappeared while the rest of the guest were still dancing and drinking. He didn’t seem mad they hadn’t gone through all the rituals about getting his blessing and such.

“Did you have a good time, little brother?” he asked, with a wink.

“Yes,” Castiel said, dryly.

He didn’t want to talk about it. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed it, but because that moment with Meg had been so intimate and so fragile he felt if he talked about it too much, it would slip from his fingers. And on top of it, he was still trying to accept the he was now king of a place he had never seen personally, a place with such a terrible reputation among the Angeli that most of them called it “Hell” instead of Daemonia. And the fact his wife had all but admitted to him that she was a witch.

It was a lot to take in.

“Why the long face then?” Gabriel asked him, narrowing his eyes at him. “It’s almost like you unwrapped a gift to find it wasn’t what you were looking for. Or that your wife had slept with someone else before you.”

“Gabriel,” Sam muttered under his breath and when the king looked at him, the younger Winchester shook his head.

Castiel couldn’t be mad. Gabriel wasn’t very good at interrogation or subtlety in general. That was the reason Benny did all the spying and Sam did all the diplomatic work for him, like writing long and elegant letters Gabriel just stamped his signature and his seal on without even reading. And why Dean did all the strategic military planning.

When thought about it that way, it wasn’t strange that Gabriel had chosen Castiel to marry a foreign queen and hopped onto the next kingdom to strengthen their relationships. Despite the fact they were brothers, Castiel was probably the member of King’s Counsel Gabriel could do without the easiest.

“What?” Gabriel asked. “I just heard a lot of rumors about Daemonai women and I’m curious…”

“She was a maiden,” Castiel replied, quickly.

He remembered Meg’s curiosity for his body and how slow they’d had to move so she would be please as well. And that morning, when she had got up to supervise the preparations of their trip and left him alone, he had noticed a few drops of blood on his sheets. He didn’t need that confirmation, but he knew people like Gabriel and some other noblemen would be pleased to see it.

Gabriel’s smile became wider and Dean guffawed.

“Sure, she _was_ ,” he said, emphasizing the past tense. “I knew you had it in you.”

He pat him on the shoulder with so much force Castiel almost spit out the bite of apple he had just taken.

“So, what happens now?” Gabriel asked, as if Castiel knew the answer to that.

“Well, Castiel and Meg go to Daemonia,” Sam said. “Benny has already sent his people to search for any whispers about Crowley and the Leviathans…”

“Whispers, I hope, that you will share with me.”

Castiel stood up immediately to show his respect to his wife.

She looked more like a queen now than ever before. The previous day, she had been all smiles and kind comments, but as she strode into the room where the King and his Council were having breakfast, her face was stone serious. She was wearing her purple dress, the one that seemed to hug her figure closely to make her even more desirable, or perhaps that was the case for Castiel because he knew what was underneath those clothes. Unlike other noblewomen who always desired to show off their riches, Meg had adorned her hair simply with a silver circlet with a violet stone in the middle. She ignored even Gabriel to move directly towards Castiel and extended her hand towards him. Immediately, he grabbed it and kissed her knuckles. Her skin was cold again.

“Crowley will come to my kingdom first,” Meg continued as if there had been no interruption at all. Lady Ruby, who came in tailing her, moved a chair so she could sit right next to Castiel. “If Daemonia falls, then Angelia will too. You understand this, of course.”

“Yes, well, that was the whole point of this union, wasn’t it?” Gabriel said, bluntly.

“What his Grace is trying to say is that of course we will share our information with you,” Sam intervened. “We will warn you if Crowley is on the move and send reinforcements if it becomes clear he plans to attack you.”

“Thank you. That was what I needed to know,” she said, with a pleased smile.

“In exchange, of course, you will grant safe passage to our agents through your kingdom,” Sam continued. “If they have King Gabriel’s seal, they are to be treated like allies and permitted to continue on their way.”

The smile disappeared from Meg’s face. She stared at Sam intensely until Ruby came back to the table and placed a plate of grapes right in front of her.

“Crowley could make a forgery of the seal,” she argued, picking a grape. “So you will forgive my knights if they are overly cautious with the strangers that fall into their webs.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty, the only way this alliance will work is if we both our kingdoms are sworn to trust,” Sam said. “If the seal doesn’t convince you, then we will find another way for our spies to identify themselves. But you will have to promise to ease up on your… interrogation methods.”

Meg chewed on the grape very slowly. The silence in the room was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

“What do you know about our interrogation methods?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at Sam.

“I know it would be in everyone’s best interest if no more of our agent were submitted to them,” Sam replied. “And if you would please return those who are already in your dungeons.”

Meg’s eyes were so narrow it almost seemed like she was trying to watch right through Sam. Castiel saw she wasn’t going to be persuaded, so he leaned over and put a hand on her arm.

“Meg, please. You were the one who said our differences must be put aside.”

“You want them back as a wedding present?” she replied, arching an eyebrow.

“If that is how you want to think about it.”

Meg kept looking at him for another second, before she let out a snicker.

“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll order them released as soon as we get back.”

“It’ll be greatly appreciated,” Sam said.

“Provided you call off your dogs and stop spying on me altogether,” Meg added. “If you need anyone to tell you what’s going at my court, I’m sure my husband will be happy to keep you up to date with the latest gossip. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Lord Samuel. We’re allies now and Castiel wouldn’t have any reason to lie to you.”

Sam didn’t seem happy about that condition, but there wasn’t anything he could argue against it. He leaned back on the chair and turned his gaze towards Castiel.

“Does your Grace approve of this?”

“What?” Gabriel startled, as if he had been so enthralled by the conversation he had completely forgotten he was the one who had the last word. “Uhm, yes, of course. That sounds like a good idea.”

“Good. I’m glad we agreed… brother,” Meg said. Gabriel startled, as if he hadn’t realize the implication of Castiel being married to her was that she was now part of the family as well. “And let me just say, it’s wonderful your darling… friend has such good insights at this hour of the morning when you’re still too busy with your breakfast to conduct your negotiations yourself.”

Ruby, standing behind her queen’s chair, let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a suffocated laugh. Gabriel blushed and shifted in his seat while Sam clenched his jaw. Meg continued eating her grapes as if she hadn’t realized or refused to recognize the state of disarray she had put the room into. Castiel would have to have a word with her about this. Everyone knew Sam was the reason the kingdom hadn’t fallen apart under Gabriel’s uncaring leadership, but they weren’t really supposed to mention it.

“We will leave shortly,” Meg added, turning her face to Castiel. “I’ve already ordered the servants to pack your clothes and belongings. If there’s anything in particular you wished to leave or take with you, I suggest you go oversee it now.”

She popped the last grape into her mouth and stood up, leaving the table without another glance at anyone else.

“How did you even manage to bed that?” Dean asked.

Castiel begged that both Meg and Ruby were already out of earshot. He stood up, bowed his head to Gabriel and ran after Meg and Ruby. He reached for them after turning a corner of the hallway.

"… they will not send the reinforcements."

"I'm well, aware of that, Ruby," Meg replied, her tone bitter and tired.

Castiel stopped at the end of hallway and both women turned their eyes to him. He was left disconcerted, pretty certain he had heard something he really wasn't supposed to. But neither of them asked him to go away, so Castiel came closer.

"You doubt my brother's word?" he asked, not even trying to pretend he didn't know what they were talking about.

"I don't doubt he means to keep it," Meg replied with a shrug. "But I also don't doubt he will want to protect his people when the Leviathans come burning his fields, killing his men and raping his women. Torn between those two options, protecting the people you have a shaky alliance with and protecting your own, what would you do?"

Castiel opened his mouth to say that in that case, the best was to prevent the Leviathans from even reaching their land, stopping them at Meg's door before they could cause any damage. But at the same time, he couldn't deny Meg's concern were legitimate. She had warned him the people didn't approve of their marriage. If they saw Gabriel sending troops to protect the Daemonai instead of themselves, they could think their king had betrayed them and revolt.

Meg smirked and patted him on the cheek.

"Don't worry. Soon enough, we will give him a reason to want to protect us."

Castiel didn't miss the meaning of her words. As if she was telling him he no longer belonged to the Angeli, but to her.

 

* * *

 

Saying goodbye to his family was harder than he had expected it. As he let Anna wrap her arms around his neck to give him a loose hug with her swollen belly coming between them, Castiel realized he had never been away from his home for longer than some months. And now, if the war came to pass as everyone was predicting, travelling would became extremely complicated, not to mention Meg wouldn't want him to leave Daemonia until they had conceived an heir.

It would be months, if not years, before he saw any of them again.

"Cheer up, brother," Gabriel told him. "Now that our messengers won't be captured and tortured on daily basis, I'm sure they can bring letters to you more often."

It was little relief.

And on top of it, Meg had insisted he couldn't bring any of his own servants with him.

"You will be provided your own when we arrive, of course. Besides, I don't think any of these Angeli will enjoy living in my kingdom."

She wasn't wrong. Still, Castiel wished he could have brought someone along, someone who understood the melancholy that invaded him when the carriage doors closed and the horses began their trotting out of the town. Castiel kept his eyes on the window until the last houses disappeared, replaced by rolling fields and small farms in the distance.

Later, when he thought back on that trip, he wouldn't remember much of it. Ruby and Meg made for very poor travelling companions, speaking scarcely and only when it was necessary, mostly leaving him to his thoughts and his staring of the monotonous sights beyond the window. The coachman and the couple pages that came with them didn't seem to need much rest: they started the journey very early in the morning, when the sun hadn't even come up yet, and only stopped when the night had closed above their heads. Castiel usually woke up startled when Meg shook his shoulder slightly and told him they needed to step out of the carriage.

Whenever he had travelled the kingdom with his father or his brothers, Castiel had always been invited to stay at the castles of the noblemen they passed on the way. There were usually feasts and the best beds on the castle prepared for them. If the weather wasn't great, they always ended up staying for a day or two to rest and stretch their legs before continuing.

Meg had a very different travel schedule. They bought food and wineskins filled with water wherever they stopped and they ate inside of the carriage if they felt hungry. They slept in taverns and inns by the road. Ruby or one of the pages paid for their stay and then Castiel and Meg sneaked upstairs past the other guests or the innkeeper's gaze, almost as if she wanted to keep their travel a secret.

Whenever they were alone, Meg would kiss him or simply shed her dress and drag him to the sheets with her. They laid together almost every night, but as pleasant as it was, it wasn’t the same as their wedding night. There was urgency in the way Meg pushed him inside of her, her caresses and kisses were calculated to make him come far too soon for her to have really enjoyed it. Afterwards, it was always a gamble: there would be nights when she would let Castiel wrap his arms around her and cuddle her against his chest, and there were nights when she would growl at him to leave her alone. He never knew what it would be.

“Isn’t there anything I can do for you?” he asked, frustrated, after one particularly bad night.

Meg had sat on his lap and cringed every time she moved because she hadn’t been fully prepared. But when Castiel had tried to kiss her or touch her to get her wetter, she had held him against the mattress, gripping his shoulder tight to prevent him from moving. He’d just had to lie there, thinking there was no way he could come from this very uncomfortable situation, but of course he’d had after a while.

“Yes. You could spill your seed even faster,” she complained. She’d rolled over and ignored him the rest of the night.

Every morning Ruby would walk into their room with their clothes and every morning she would place her hands on Meg’s stomach and shake her head.

“Your fertile days are almost over, my queen,” she told her one time. “It might be best to try again with the next moon.”

Meg's lips tightened in a fine line, as if she was barely resisting the urge to shout at Ruby.

"You said there was no way to know for sure when the fertile days will be over."

"No, but I have a very good idea..."

"Then we will keep trying," Meg interrupted her. "You will prepare me more of your potion and you, my dear husband" – she turned her face to Castiel, looking terrible and beautiful in her nakedness, her eyes turning black with fury – "will keep my bed warm every single night until it happens."

Ruby threw her hands in the air, muttered something along the lines of "As you wish" and left them to change.

As they approached Daemonia, the weather turned worse: grey clouds covered the sun and soon enough there was almost an incessant drizzle tapping against the window and the carriage's rooftop. Castiel half-expected the roads to turn to mud and prevent them from keeping the same almost frantic rhythm. But as he found out later, the rain season in Daemonia was always merciless and there was no point in waiting it out to do anything. The roads, after a certain point, became tiled and stoned streets and Meg told him with pride that it had been her great-grandfather's idea: otherwise, it would have been impossible to travel during such hostile months.

"The rain season lasts from autumn until summer," she told him. "Our winters aren't usually long, but they can be cruel. That's why most of our towns live on what the sea has to offer. Hopefully now that our kingdoms are allies, we can also resume the trade with Angelia."

Castiel resigned himself to the fact it would be months before he saw the sun. He was also beginning to understand why people called the country "Hell". Unlike the golden fields and green woods of Angelia, everything there as far as he could see was colorless and bleak. The very few plants and trees that struggled to grow seemed weak and small and the animals they passed (some cows and donkeys grazing the scarce grass) were thin and dead-eyed.

The feeling of optimism he had felt the morning after their wedding night (that perhaps being married to Meg wouldn't be so bad, that perhaps he could ignore that she was a witch and learn to love her despite it all) was soon as dead as the vegetation of Daemonia. But none of that (Meg's dissatisfaction, the hostility of the landscape, Ruby's heavy silence and indifference) made his heart sink as the moment he saw his new permanent residence for the first time.

He had been dozing off with his head against the window when Meg grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him very slowly. It was an almost gentle gesture and when Castiel opened his eyes and saw her smiling, he thought that perhaps that night could be one of the good ones.

"Is it time to stop already?" he asked, because there was still some light in the horizon, albeit weak.

"Soon it will be," Meg said. "I just wanted you to see my castle."

She pointed out at the cliff straight ahead and for a moment, Castiel wasn't sure what he was supposed to make of those black rocks clumsily perched right at the edge of it. But as the carriage moved closer, it became obvious: it wasn't just rocks, but a rectangular, ugly building, with crooked towers stretching into the sky. If there hadn't been any daylight, it might have been impossible to find, and even in the heavy rain falling, he would have missed if Meg hadn't pointed out. The formless shape of it didn't improve with closeness and by the time the carriage moved past its great, black gates, Castiel's heart was beating in his throat with fear.

The rocks weren't black. They were scorched.

"What happened to this place?" he asked in a whisper.

"The legends vary, my king," Ruby said. "The most common was said it was a dragon that King Lucifer kept chained underneath the palace and he awakened to fight his enemies during a terrible battle..."

"There'll be time for history classes later, Ruby," Meg interrupted her.

The horses stopped with a thump. Castiel was surprised to see that there were equal parts men and women lining up in the yard to receive them and at least one of them (a tall, imposing woman with fiery red hair) was wearing a heavy armor.

The coachman opened the door and stretched his hand to help Ruby clamber out. Castiel frowned. As a lady of inferior position, Ruby should have come out second. Why hadn't Meg...?

His wife cleared her throat and jerked her chin outside. Only then Castiel realized what was expected of him. He came out as quickly as he could and stretched his hand for her to step out. As soon as her foot touched the ground, everybody at the yard sank their knees on the ground. There was no announcements or presentations made. Just that collective and silent show of reverence.

"Lady Abaddon," Meg called. The redheaded woman in the armor immediately stood up and straightened her shoulders, her hand resting slightly on the tilt of her sword. "I relieve you of your duties as Regent."

"Thank you, my queen," Lady Abaddon replied. A big, toothy smile appeared on her face. "Welcome home."

"On your feet," Meg ordered coldly and everyone immediately obeyed. She grabbed Castiel's hand and held it up as she encouraged him to take a step further. "This is my husband, Castiel. He now and until the god of death calls his name, shall be your king. I expect you show him the same respect and devotion that you show me. The queen has spoken."

“The kingdom shall listen,” the courtiers replied in unison.

And that was apparently all the ceremony necessary. Meg made a gesture and immediately everyone dispelled.

“I have business to attend to,” she told Castiel as she guided him inside the castle. “You may go wherever you please, though I’d advise against going to the dungeons…”

“Why?” Castiel asked, frowning.

Meg ignored the question.

“You’ll have your own private chambers, right next to mine,” Meg continued. “You will not enter those unless I request you to. We will dine together later, but if you wish to have some refreshment now, Ruby will guide you to the kitchen.”

“With pleasure.”

Castiel startled. He hadn’t realized the lady in waiting was walking right next to them.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No… yes!” Castiel stuttered and cleared his throat. “If the business you’re attending have something to do with Crowley or the Angeli agents you’re supposed to release, shouldn’t I attend as well?”

Meg stared at him for a second and then snickered.

“Aren’t you cute?” She patted his cheek and gave him a quick peck on the edge of his lips. “I will see you tonight.”

She turned around and strode away, the edge of her dress floating behind her.

“Would my king like something to eat?” Ruby offered.

“No,” Castiel sighed, feeling incredibly defeated after that exchange. “I think I’d like to see my chambers.”

The inside of the castle was, surprisingly, not as inhospitable as the outside made it seem. The scorched stone on the inside had been adorned as much as it could be with wooden panels, paintings and tapestries. The floors were covered with thick carpets and the windows showed an almost vertiginous view of the sea pushing against the rock. Everywhere they went, there were servants cleaning or carrying wood or clothing, but they all stopped and stared at Castiel. Lady Ruby explained to a couple of them who he was, and the servant immediately bowed to him and welcomed him to the castle. By the time they reached his chambers, the rumor had spread through the castle and the servants bowed without having to tell them to.

“The kingdom listens,” Ruby explained. “Meg has given the order for the news to spread far and wide and soon everybody will know who you are and what you came here to do. The news may even reach Crowley. The gods know he has some loyalist here in the palace, so if I were you, I’d watch my moves.”

“What does that mean?” Castiel asked. “What is expected of me?”

“Be hopelessly devoted to your queen, or at least give all the appearance of it,” she instructed him. “Boast about how hard you’re trying to conceive an heir and how happy you are your kingdoms are finally at peace. Write about it in your letters to your brother. Don’t give anyone a reason to think you’re anything but absolutely loyal to Meg. Here we are.”

Castiel’s chamber was almost as big as the one he had in Angelia. His trunks had already been brought there and like all the places he had seen so far, it was decorated with tapestries and paintings. A big one right in front of the bed, depicted a unicorn with his head in the lap of a maiden.

“So, what do you like to do?” Ruby asked.

“Excuse me?” Castiel asked, turning on his heels to watch her.

“Do you like to go hunting? I can provide you with dogs and horses and I’m sure some courtiers would like to show the hunting grounds to their new king,” Ruby said. “If you like poetry or music, I can call bards or…”

“Oh. Well, I like to read,” Castiel mumbled, uncomfortable.

“I’ll have someone bring you books from our library,” Ruby determined. “Hope my king will be comfortable.”

She bowed at him and exited the chambers, leaving him with a very uncomfortable sensation in his stomach.

It only took him a few minutes to realize why that was. Meg intended to keep him entertained and secluded. He wasn’t meant to be a king, just a consort and a trophy to wave at Crowley’s face if he decided to test the boundaries of the allegiance.

He felt the blood rushing to his face as he sat down on the bed. No, that wasn’t fair. He could do much more than that. And he had to find a way to prove it to Meg.

 

* * *

 

The following days were slow. Ruby kept her word and sent several treaties on geography and history of Daemonia. Castiel spent the mornings learning about his new home and the afternoons roaming the castle, talking to the servants and taking an interest in their lives. To his surprise, most of them seemed to love Meg and they spoke highly of her deceased father, King Azazel. Castiel wondered if that loyalty was genuine or if they were exaggerating it for fear of being branded Crowley’s followers.

He also learned that Anna had been right. Ancient pagan traditions that were a well-kept secret under the watchful eye of the church back in Angelia were practiced out in the open there. It was a shock at first, but his curiosity won him over and he started learning about the different cults the people kept. They had a god or goddess for practically everything: a god of the sea and a goddess of the wind who watched over the fishermen, a goddess of earth that provided them with food to eat and two sky gods that were rigorously separated.

“Father Sun protects us and give us warm,” an old washerwoman told him when she came to pick up the sheets. “One must pray to him every morning when he rises for his gifts.”

Castiel couldn’t help but to think, with the horrible weather the kingdom had, Father Sun didn’t show his face all too often.

“Mother Moon protects women,” continued the woman as she tied the sheets in a messy ball. “She sends us children and watches over us during childbirth…”

Castiel remembered Meg, standing naked in the moonlight, right before they had laid together on their wedding night. Now it made more sense why she had done that.

“Could I… perhaps pray to her for a child?”

He washerwoman stared at him as if she had just slapped her on the face or personally insulted her.

“No! Only women can pray to Mother Moon.”

Castiel took note that he had to be more careful about those things in the future.

He only saw Meg at night. She came to dine with him, usually with a tired expression on her face and no desire whatsoever to discuss anything related to the politics or plans for the future.

“What’s there to know? I had them cleaned up and put them in a carriage back to Angelia. I’m a woman of my word,” she said when Castiel asked about the agents Sam had pleaded for.

“I should have seen them before they left,” Castiel protested.

“Why?”

“Because then they would have known that we didn’t forsake them,” Castiel explained. “They would know times have changed with our marriage and that disparaging the Daemonai now means disparaging our friends. You said yourself the Angeli people didn’t have good will towards you, so perhaps spreading the news of their release would have helped to show you’re not the tyrant they take you for.”

Meg just stared at him with tired eyes. Castiel thought she was going to laugh and tell him not to worry his pretty little head with that sort of thing, as she so often did when he dared to venture an opinion. But to his surprise, she simply shrugged and emptied her chalice.

“Perhaps you’re unto something,” she admitted. “Next time we receive some sort of Angeli visitor, I’ll let you deal with them. Let’s go to bed now.”

They usually went to his chamber to lie together. Sometimes Meg would let him touch her or kiss her, she would let him please her and keep her close to his chest and she would still be there next to him when they woke up. In those times, Meg called him “hers” and it was almost like that sweet first night they had spent together. Other nights, she would use her mouth to get him on the edge of coming with that distant precision he was starting to hate and only really participate in it when she had to take his seed inside of her. On those occasions, she would get up as soon as they were done and go back to sleep in her own bed, sometimes without so much as a glance or a word to him, leaving him cold and aching for a way to prove to her that her pleasure was just as important as his.

In other words, she behaved exactly as she had during the weeks of their journey to Daemonia, but now Castiel was beginning to see the pattern. Meg took her duties as queen very seriously and that affected how she acted with him. On days when everything in the kingdom seemed to be going like she wanted to, she would let Castiel be gentle with her and stay with him until the morning. On days when she’d had a disagreement of some kind with her courtiers or advisors, on days when she received bad news (the peasants were starving in certain areas, a ship had been lost at sea, a nobleman had been caught sending suspicious letters), she would expect him to perform his duty in trying to impregnate her and nothing else. How much she ate or talked during dinner would clue him in on what to expect when she finally decided it was time to go to bed. The quieter she was, the more indifferent she’d act towards him.

Although even that wasn’t as good as a predictor as he thought. On one night when Meg had barely touched her food and only answered to his questions briefly, he started bracing himself for another cold, lonely night. But she surprised him by letting him take charge of the situation. He covered her with kisses and moved very slowly, almost lazily, until she let out a long, deep moan and relaxed underneath him until he came as well.

Afterwards, she stayed by his side, her face buried in his neck as he toyed with her curls.

“Why can’t it be like this all the time?” he muttered, half-asleep.

Meg stirred by his side, but didn’t leave the bed.

“I’m so _tired_ ,” she muttered. “I wasn’t supposed to do any of this. Tom should have been the king and I should have married a fat, old lord who would die in a few years and leave me a respectable widow with my own castle and lands to do as I pleased. Now the weight of the kingdom is on my shoulders and every decision I take affects from the humblest peasant to the greatest lord. I can’t do as I please because I have to think about everyone else. And every mistake I make is mine and no one else’s. I’m alone.”

It was almost heartbreaking to hear her speak like that. She was usually such a strong-willed and confident woman Castiel could have scarcely imagined she felt anything of the sort. And maybe that was the reason trying to conceive an heir was a chore to her sometimes. Maybe that was the reason she kept him at arm’s length despite all the promises of fidelity and love. He moved away so they could lie face to face, but kept his arms around her waist.

“I understand,” he told her. “Gabriel wasn’t supposed to be the king either. Sometimes he seems so overwhelmed and lost it’s hard to even look at him.”

“And how does your brother endure?”

“Well… he has Sam.”

Meg chuckled softly. It was the first time in weeks Castiel heard her laugh, so he figured he must have done something correctly.

“It may seem… unconventional,” he continued. “But Sam does help him carry some of that burden. He knows he will never have any real power or recognition. He does it out of love for Gabriel and for Angelia. And Gabriel is a better king for it.”

Meg looked at him for a very long time, not saying a word, as if she was reflecting on the meaning of that. Castiel brushed her hair aside.

“And you don’t have to be alone either, my queen,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

“What can you do for me, besides keeping me warm at night?” Meg replied, with an honesty so brutal that Castiel was stunned. “They respect you because they know you’re mine. But if I tried to give you any sort of power to wield, they would tear me apart. You’re still a foreigner and there are many things about Daemonia you just don’t understand.”

“Perhaps,” Castiel admitted. “Help me understand them, then. Teach me and show me what I can do for you. Maybe when you’re not so tired, our nights together will be sweeter and an heir will come to us with far more ease. And if somebody dares question you for it… you’ll just have to remind them this is not a time to have you questioning their loyalty.”

Meg stared at him a little longer and then threw her head back and let out a long laugh.

“Maybe you understand more than I give you credit for,” she said, snuggling closer to him.

“I was born a prince too,” Castiel reminded her. Meg’s hands slid down his body and he closed his eyes, enjoying his wife’s caresses. “Would you really have preferred to marry a fat old lord?”

Meg threw her leg around him to straddle him.

“I never said this didn’t have its perks.”


	3. Chapter 3

Meg was gone when he woke up the next morning, but Castiel wasn’t too bothered by it. Last night he had caught a glimpse of what was behind his wife’s behavior and now he had a better understanding of her, he could…

Ruby walked into his chambers without knocking despite the dozen times he had asked her not to do that.

“You’re still in bed, my king?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Is there a protocol against it?” Castiel asked, as usually pulling the covers over him. It was useless anyway: with how often she’d walked into him and Meg, he doubted there was anything she hadn’t seen.

“Not at all.” Ruby shrugged. “I was just certain you wouldn’t want to be late.”

“For what?”

“The Council is holding a meeting after breakfast and the queen has requested you join them,” Ruby informed him, with the same boring tone she used for everything else. “Should I tell her you won’t be available?”

A rush of energy went through Castiel’s limbs when he heard those words.

“No!” he exclaimed, kicking the covers aside and standing up, not caring anymore what Ruby saw. “Of course I will be there. Please, have my breakfast ready.”

He was so excited about this new development and what it could mean for his relationship with Meg that he barely finished the fruit Ruby brought him. He still arrived almost too late because he took the wrong turn in a hallway, but eventually he found himself rushing towards the door on the Council Room, where Meg was holding a conversation with Lady Abaddon.

“I don’t care if you want to put him a leash on him and parade him around the castle,” she was saying in an angry whisper. She wasn’t wearing her armor that day, but she did have male breeches and a doublet, with her red hair tied up in a bun. “But you can’t just bring him into our deliberation as if he has any right to…”

“There you are, my king,” Meg said, looking over Abaddon’s shoulder. She grinned at him and stretched his hand, which Castiel hurried to grab and kiss. “Lady Abaddon here was just telling me her opinions about you participating in today’s meeting.”

“Was she now?” Castiel looked at her and smiled as gently as he could. “I’m sure it’s important to you to count on the opinions of your advisers. But ultimately, the decision belongs to you and I’m sure no one will dare to question that.”

“Well put.” Meg’s grin was almost a threatening grimace. Abaddon understood she had lost that debate, so she bowed at them and entered the meeting walking fast in long, angry strides. Meg chuckled quietly. “Oh, any day that starts upsetting my dear cousin is a day worth remembering,” she commented.

Castiel wasn’t surprised by her affirmation. He had read that most kings of Daemonia kept the tradition of forming his Councils by mostly members of their own family. It was a way to secure their loyalty that hadn’t always worked for the best, but the tradition stood nonetheless.

Despite Meg’s kingdom being smaller than Angelia, her Council was bigger. Castiel counted at least ten men and women (some of which, like Abaddon, were wearing male attires) who were all talking over each other when Meg came in. They went quiet immediately and stood to watch her with attention as Meg took her place at the head of the table. Castiel looked around a little awkwardly until he saw an empty chair next to her and assumed that was where he was supposed to be seated. He walked in fully aware of the glances and glares thrown in his direction.

“The queen shall listen,” Meg announced and sat down. The advisers all started making noise at the same time, pointing fingers and trying to out-scream each other. Castiel leaned back on his seat, perplexed, but Meg just rubbed her temples and sighed as if this was a daily occurrence. “The queen shall listen to you _one at a time_!” The room went quiet again, but the hostility and anger was still palpable. “Lord Alastair, you may begin.”

“Thank you, my queen.” Alastair stood up. He was a greying man with a pointy chin and spoke in an unsettling nasal voice. “Reports keep coming of peasants fleeing from the confines of our kingdom. Some of them have been seen to join pirate ships that will undoubtedly cause trouble to our shore cities…”

“They can try to attack us if they please,” a blonde woman in a white dress intervened. “But the gods of the sea and the wind will protect us, as they always have. Their ships will crash against our cliffs before they can cause any damage.”

“The problem isn’t that they joined pirate ships, Lilith,” Alastair said, looking at her with annoyance. “The problem is they keep fleeing the kingdom in fear. Soon there won’t be fishermen or farmers left to provide for us and at the brink of war as we are, that can be disastrous.”

“Well, perhaps that is the problem,” another man with white hair intervened. He was wearing priestly robes, but Castiel doubted he adored the same God he did. “We’ve been preparing ourselves for months for Crowley’s attack, but there’s no evidence he’s even planning one.”

“Gil, you can’t possibly be this naïve,” Abaddon said. “Of course Crowley will attack us and the people know this. They’re trying to save their own necks, like the little cowards they are. I say anyone who tries to escape should be punished…”

“That’ll only give the tortures extra work,” Lilith commented.

“And of course you would say that!” Gil replied, his face turning red with indignation. “You’re so anxious to go to war that you’d take us to it based on a few whispers and the predictions of an old witch!”

The advisers began screaming again and Castiel couldn’t make a word of what they were attempting to say. Meg closed her eyes and she appeared to be counting slowly before a voice raised above all the others:

“They’re not just whispers.”

The man hadn’t shouted, but it was as if his words had boomed all the same. Everyone in the room went quiet as all the looks turned towards him. He was sitting at the end of the table, his head bowed down, but as all the attention turned to him, he raised his head. He had grey hair and beard and light blue eyes that seemed tired just from having them open.

“Sir Cain?” Meg urged him.

“They’re not just whispers,” Cain repeated, standing up and unbuttoning his doublet so everyone could see the bandages covering his chest and stomach. “I have seen the Leviathans. I’ve fought with them. They’re as vicious as their legend says, and they are coming. I travelled as fast as I could to inform you and you’re all wasting your time fighting about peasants and pirates!”

Even Abaddon seemed less boastful afterwards. Meg’s lips had tightened in a straight line and the color had fled from her face. Castiel never thought he’d seen the day he would see his wife so frightened. Or that it would come so soon. However, when she spoke, her voice was firm:

“Where did you see them?”

“They’re coming from the Northern Mountains. They were just two of them, probably examining the terrain, looking for a weak spot. I made sure they couldn’t deliver their message, but they almost killed me in return. It took me weeks to travel back with all my injuries, but I did anyway, because the queen needed to know this.”

“It’ll take months for them to cross the Mountains,” Lilith said. “Especially if they’re coming in big numbers.”

“There are a few towns there. Mostly goat herders and miners,” added a woman with black straight hair sitting next to Gil. “If they’re attacked, they will have no way to defend themselves.”

“Then give them a way.”

Castiel was as surprised by his intervention as everyone else, but he cleared his throat and kept speaking:

“They flee because they’re scared, because they’d heard the rumors of war and feel helpless. If they see that they are protected…”

“We do not have nearly enough knights to protect every little town forsaken by the gods…”

“It won’t be necessary to send any knights if you teach the plebe to defend themselves,” Castiel interrupted Abaddon’s protests. “If you give them a way to fight back against the Leviathans, they will stay and defend their land.”

“The Leviathans will massacre them,” Abaddon said, with a scoff. “For even daring to put up a fight, Crowley will burn them to the ground…”

“The Leviathans will massacre them anyway,” Castiel replied. “At least this way they can choose to die with some semblance of dignity. And perhaps they can even do some damage to Crowley.”

“They’ll be lucky if they manage to even scratch them.”

“Perhaps,” Meg intervened and all the look turned towards her. “But if they’re bleeding from a thousand scratches, they might not be as strong when they come to lay siege to my castle. Cain, you will stay here and rest until you’ve recovered, but call your knights and tell them these are my orders: go all through the kingdom, call upon every man and woman who can wield a weapon and train them. The towns must have militias capable of defending them before winter comes. If any nobleman protests about having their peasants taught, they will be considered traitors and your knights have permission to seize their castles and their riches. Alastair, spread the word that every smith that can provide weapons and armor for the militias will be rewarded by the crown.”

“I don’t think you’re making the right decision, my queen…”

“Abaddon, you will take a garrison with you,” Meg continued, as if the redhead hadn’t said a word. “You will travel and set up posts near the Northern Mountains. If any more Leviathans rear their ugly heads into our kingdom, I want to know immediately, so take fast horses and good riders with you.”

Abaddon seemed ready to protest, but Meg stood and placed her hands on the table.

“The queen has spoken,” she declared.

“The kingdom shall listen,” all the advisers replied quickly.

The meeting ended as chaotically as it began. Everybody stood up and walked through the door in groups of two or three, commenting what they had talked. The only ones who left the room by themselves were Abaddon, who almost pushed past Lilith and the woman with straight black hair, and Cain who approached the queen to bow to her.

“You went a little over the top with your outburst, my dear Cain,” Meg commented.

A little smirk appeared on Cain’s lips.

“I think I did exactly as I needed to,” he said. “You convinced them of your plan without opposition, did you not?”

Castiel was a little disoriented at that and they both seemed to realize, because they laughed together in his face.

“Castiel, this is Sir Cain,” Meg introduced him. “He’s a faithful knight and a dear friend.”

“Nice to finally meet you, my king.” Cain was smiling, but he didn’t seem as warm or as enthusiastic as when he had talked to Meg. “Hope you reign many years next to our gracious queen.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied, narrowing his eyes at the man. There was something about the informal way he had approached Meg that just didn’t sit right with him. And the fact he had colluded with Meg… when had that happened?

Meg beckoned for the both to follow her out of the room.

“It wasn’t my plan,” she admitted. “I was going to suggest recruiting the people for our army, but the response to such request from the crown is always lukewarm. This way, they will be convinced to accept the training and join the army later if it’s necessary. Well thought, Castiel.”

“Thank you,” he repeated. He was fully aware of the look Cain was shooting at him, as if he was trying to seize him up, the same way Castiel was trying to determine who he was and why Meg allowed him to treat her with such familiarity.

At the end of the hallway, Meg stopped and placed a hand on Castiel’s cheek. Castiel planted a kiss on her cool skin quickly. He always appreciated those little gestures of affection, because they were so rare, but he was starting to realize she always gave them to him when they were in front of other people. As if she wanted to show them that he belonged to her.

“I need you to write to your brother now,” she told him. “Inform him of what Cain has told us and what we’re doing. Give the letter to Ruby and she will make sure our fastest messenger delivers it.”

“As my queen desires,” Castiel said, obediently.

Meg removed her hand and moved to pay attention to Cain.

“Come with me, dear friend. I haven’t visited the battlements in a while.”

Something twisted up in Castiel’s stomach. He didn’t know if it was the way Cain smiled at his wife or the way she grabbed his arm or how he leaned down to tell her something he couldn’t catch once they were a little further away. Or maybe it was a combination of all of those things. In any case, as they left him behind in the hallway, he had never felt any less like a king. Or like a husband.

 

* * *

 

He found Ruby in the library. It was one of the best rooms in all of the castle. It contained shelves and shelves of codecs and books, all of them invaluable, as Ruby had told him, as they had been collected through the years. Several paintings of old kings and queens adorned the walls and as any of the other main rooms in the castle, it had a wide window that let in the sunlight and the salty breeze of the sea. Usually, Castiel felt at ease surrounded by all of those books, by the smell of parchment and ink.

That day wasn’t one of those.

“Does my king need anything?” Ruby asked when Castiel came in. She was sitting in front of a table, with a parchment spread open in front of her. “Have you finished all the books I took to you the last time?”

“No, I’m still going through them. I need something to write a letter.”

“Of course. Sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”

The lady in waiting moved around the room, her long black dress floating behind her like a cloud. Castiel looked at her with curiosity. Of all the people he had met in the castle, she had to be the more mysterious one. She seemed to come and go as she pleased, but she always showed up whenever and wherever she was needed by Meg or by him. She spoke very little and always the precise words, but she still seemed to have an almost supernatural understanding about everything that happened within the walls of the castle. Meg obviously trusted her completely, and yet…

“You weren’t at the meeting earlier.”

“I don’t need to be at such events,” Ruby replied, placing a parchment and a bottle of ink in front of him. “I can give the queen my advice in private, if it’s requested.”

Castiel picked up the quill and looked at the empty parchment in front of him. The words he was supposed to write danced in his head, but he was unable to bring them to existence. The image of Meg hanging from Cain’s arm still plagued him. He waited so long a single dropped of ink fell from the quill, staining the parchment. Castiel groaned and smudge it with the edge of his hand. He couldn’t say the result was any better.

Ruby was staring at him patiently, with those dark eyes that were so unnerving sometimes.

“What’s troubling my king?” she asked in the end.

“Nothing,” Castiel replied. He put the quill back into the bottle and rubbed his temples. He knew the message was urgent, but…

“Sir Cain arrived right before sunrise,” Ruby informed him, as if Castiel had asked. “He was weak from not having eaten in days and his horse was half dead from how much he pressured it to go faster. Yes, that was the reason the queen left your bed so early without waking you.”

Castiel blinked at her and Ruby grinned.

“My job is provide answers, my king,” she explained. “That is another reason I am not invited to join the Council. Their job is to search for solutions. I can only reply their questions, but not tell them what to do.”

“You’re… a Seer,” Castiel said, almost wanting to hit himself from not having understood that sooner. Of course a Seer could tell when an heir would arrive. That was what Gil meant by “the predictions of an old witch”. Although Ruby didn’t look old at all. She was as youthful as Meg, at the very least, but if there was one thing the priests of Angelia didn’t stop preaching was that magic could be deceitful.

“It’s one thing I’ve been called,” she replied with a shrug. “Is there anything else my king would wish to know?”

There were many, and Castiel wasn’t sure if it was really wise to ask. But in the end, his curiosity and jealousy were bigger. He leaned back on the chair and looked up at Ruby.

“Meg seemed… particularly attached to Sir Cain.”

“Of course she is,” Ruby said, cocking her head. “She considered marrying him when she came of age.”

That was exactly what Castiel was fearing to hear. Meg had told him she had never laid with another man prior to their wedding and he believed her. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t give up her heart to someone else. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. After all, the basis for their marriage wasn’t love, but political convenience. So it mattered very little in the grand scheme of things if they loved each other or not. As long they remained faithful…

But that was exactly the problem.

“Why didn’t she?”

“There were several reasons. King Azazel disapproved, since Cain is of inferior rank and much older than Meg. Then Crowley’s rebellion made it necessary for Meg to assumed the role of queen and seek out a marriage that benefited the kingdom,” Ruby said, echoing what he thought. “But most importantly, Meg doesn’t like to be second best. Sir Cain is a widower and he loved his wife body and soul. In a way, Meg would have had to compete with her ghost to earn the affection she craved from him.”

Castiel didn’t expect that answer. He had always considered that Meg was far too independent, far too herself to need to be loved back.

“Cain did love her, though, in his own way,” Ruby continued. “That was the reason he departed for the Northern Mountains the same day Meg left to marry you. And it’s the reason he doesn’t like you.”

“Oh,” Castiel muttered. The bad news just kept on coming.

“But as to your question,” Ruby said, even though Castiel hadn’t asked what he really wanted to ask. “The answer is yes. Meg will remain faithful to you. She understands loyalty and she has chosen to give it to you because you have promised to do the same for her.”

“So you’re saying if I hadn’t offered Meg my loyalty she already would be carrying someone else’s bastard.”

“You got the gist of it.” Ruby beamed as if he had just told a very funny joke. “So for your own sake, I would recommend you do what she requested of you.”

Castiel looked at the empty parchment again. That cleared some of the doubts he had, but also brought along hundreds of new ones.

“I will leave you to it…”

“I don’t just want her loyalty,” he blurted out. “I want her to…”

His voice trailed off and he looked away. He was ashamed to even admit it, so when Ruby turned to him and narrowed her eyes at him, he didn’t dare to meet her gaze.

“To love you,” she guessed. “You want your queen to love you.”

“I have to spend the rest of my life with her,” Castiel pointed out. “It may be easier if we…”

He didn’t finish. Ruby kept looking at him, her eyes a little wider from the surprise.

“It may,” she conceded. “It also may make it harder for you when harsh times come.”

“Is war really inevitable?”

“Yes,” Ruby replied, curtly. “So maybe instead of worrying about how you’re going to spend the rest of your life, you should worry about having a life to spend at all.”

Castiel toyed with the corner of the parchment. Of course what Ruby said made all the sense in the world. It was still hard not to think about Meg and Cain alone in the battlements. Ruby sighed.

“Meg might come around to love you, in time,” she promised. “But you’ll have to be patient for that to happen. In the meantime, you can only keep doing what you’re doing. Devote yourself to her orders, show her loyalty and pleasure her when she comes into your bed.”

Castiel licked his lips, nervous. That was another issue entirely and he could feel his face catching fire as he dared to ask:

“How do I…? She told me you had taught her, and I was… wondering…”

The grin in Ruby’s lips was downright mocking, as if she was delighting herself with Castiel embarrassment.

“My king lacks imagination,” she told him. “Meg isn’t the only one with a tongue.”

 

* * *

 

Waiting for Meg that night was longer than he expected. The servants left them a delicious fish, still steaming from the kitchens and heavily seasoned. Its scent made Castiel’s stomach grumble, but he didn’t dare to touch it until his queen got there.

By the time he heard her steps coming to the door, the fish was cold and Castiel was willing to bet the win in the jar had gone sour. But his hunger vanished from his mind the moment Meg stepped into the room and the golden light of the candles illuminated her face.

Her cheeks and nose were red and her eyes puffy and bloodshot. She stood in the chamber, staring at him as if he hadn’t expected to find him there at all.

“Castiel,” she called.

He rose to his feet and walked up to her, holding her hand and kissing it even before she offered it to him.

“Meg,” he said, because it just didn’t feel right to call her “queen” in a moment like that. “Are you alright? What happened?”

She looked up at him. Her brown eyes seemed to glimmer with the unshed tears dancing on her eyelashes.

“Nothing,” she said. “Sir Cain has decided to leave early in the morning to round up his knights despite his wounds. He… he is going to be busy training your militia… and he won’t be back for a long time…”

Her voice broke with the last words. Castiel was at a lost for what to do. When she was tired and angry she needed space and silence, when she was happy and satisfied, she needed affection and laughter. But it was the first time he saw her brokenhearted and it was disconcerting. Should he try to distract her? Should he probe her further about the reason for her anguish?

Meg, apparently, didn’t want him to do any of those things. She took a step closer and buried her face in his chest, suffocating a sob against his shirt as her hands held onto his arms. He immediately put them around her and held her tight against him, lowering his face to kiss the crown of her dark hair.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I know he’s a dear friend to you.”

Meg let out a sound that was somewhere between a suffocated laugher and a sob. Castiel reached up for her hair and slowly untangled the knots in it, waiting for her to calm down and talk to him. Or not talk to him and just order him to get into bed with her. He had no way to predict which one it’d be, and that unsettled him.

Because he didn’t want to see her like that. He didn’t want her to cry for some knight who couldn’t make up his mind on whether he loved her or not. He didn’t want her to cry at all.

“Meg,” he muttered. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to make it better.”

“Why are men so selfish?” she wondered out loud. “Just let me cry, gods damn you.”

Castiel didn’t stop to wonder if she could read his mind or not. He gently guided her to his bed and sat there with her. Meg curled up in his lap and buried her face in his shoulder. He rocked her back and forward, as if she was a small child, patting her back and untangling her hair, whispering words of consolation every time she shuddered with a strangled sob. He stayed with her, even though what he really wanted to do was ran through the castle, burst into Cain’s room and finish what the Leviathans had started.

“Do you know what my father used to tell me?” she muttered and the sound of her voice after such a long silence startled him. “He’d say: ‘Remember you’re a princess, Megan. No one can make you cry without your permission’.”

“Then why are you letting him?” Castiel asked, not even bothering to hide his rage.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I was talking to him and it felt like old times. Like nothing had changed despite… but then he said he was surprised to see me this happy. It sounded like he expected me to be miserable with this arrangement. With the choices I made. Then he mentioned that we had been married for two months and still not produced an heir and wondered out loud why that was.”

Castiel almost wanted to laugh. Cain had been jealous of him because he got to have Meg’s body in his bed, the same way Castiel had been jealous of Cain because he got to have Meg’s heart once. They were both fools, he realized as she lifted up her head. No one could ever had all of Meg. She was too much herself for that.

“I’m not miserable,” she admitted. “I wish we could have a child faster, but I’m not miserable with you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Are you… miserable with me?” she asked, almost cringing, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer to that question. “I know I’m not always the most attentive of wives, but I don’t want you to be unhappy here. I don’t… I don’t mean to be like that. I don’t mean to be horrible to you.”

Castiel sighed. It wasn’t an admission of affection, nor an apology, exactly, but at least it put his mind at ease about all those nights when it felt like she was just going through the motions and didn’t even want to see him. She realized she was doing it. She realized she had the power to hurt him. That was more than enough for now.

“You’re not a horrible wife. When you allow yourself to be my wife, that is.” He brushed her hair aside and smiled at her confusion. “Out there, in front of everyone, you’re the queen and that’s what you’re meant to be. I understand that. But you don’t have to be the queen in here. You don’t have to bring the weight of your crown into our bed.”

“If only it was that easy,” she scoffed.

“Are you the queen when you’re with Cain?” he asked, softly. She lowered her eyes and didn’t answer. Castiel ignored the new knot of jealousy in his gut and continued: “I know I’m not him. I know I’m not… what you expected your life to bring you. But I am here, Meg. I’m here for you.”

Meg watched him with wide eyes. She raised her hand to pat his cheek and slowly, her smirk reappeared in her lips.

“Yes,” she muttered. “You’re here. You’re here and you’re _mine_.”

She said the last word forcefully. As if she was trying to reaffirm something that had been shaky for the last few days. Castiel felt a shiver go down his spine as he intertwined his fingers with hers.

“I’m yours,” he repeated. “And you promised me as I am yours, that you would be mine.”

She kissed him. Gently at first, but more forcefully as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Her arms crept up his back and found a spot in the back of his head to push him into her, opening her mouth and letting his tongue stroke hers. As always when he was with her, Castiel felt every nerve in his skin standing to attention. When they broke the kiss, Meg was smiling mischievously again, her eyes black as the night. It was strange how it no longer scared him to see her like that.

“Then come take what’s yours, husband.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel shivered and rolled over only for his hands to find emptiness besides him. He couldn’t help the lurch of disappointment in his chest. He really had thought that after last night’s wonderful moments, that he and Meg had really moved on from so many insecurities and things unsaid…

But he remembered Ruby’s advice. He needed to be patient.

He opened his eyes to find that Meg hadn’t left him. She was standing in front of the window, bathed in the dawn’s white light, holding the sheet around her body like a loose robe. That explained why Castiel had felt so cold. He watched the curve of her back, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was that she was seeing, but as always, she already knew he was awake.

“Cain is leaving,” she commented. It was impossible to tell how she felt about that from the tone of her voice.

Castiel stood up and walked up to her. He had spent so much time looking at the breathtaking sight of the sea and the horizon in his window that he had never realized he could also watch the castle’s stables from up there. He could make out Cain’s grey curls atop of a black horse. He thought he saw the knight look up to their window, but it was impossible to tell for sure with the distance. And even if he looked, Castiel wondered if he could see them standing there. Just in case he could, he put an arm around Meg’s waist and pull her closer to leave a kiss in her shoulder.

“To what god do you pray to for his safe return?”

“Why do you care if he returns safely or not?”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But you do. And I’d hate to see you cry for him again.”

Cain sank his heels in his horse’s flank and disappeared from view. They heard calling in the distance as the guards opened the castle’s gates for him. Meg let out a deep breath and turned around to nuzzle his neck.

“I prayed to the goddess of war when my father and my brother left the first time to battle against Crowley. She didn’t heed me. I don’t see why it should be different now.” She looked up at him and smirked. “So instead, I’ll keep praying to Mother Moon to send us a child soon.”

Castiel lowered his face to kiss her…

Ruby burst into the room.

“Good morning, your Majesties,” she greeted them happily.

Castiel didn’t even try to hide his frustration. He also didn’t even try to hide his body anymore.

“Ruby.” For the first time, Meg seemed as irritated with her lady-in-waiting as he felt. “You’re awfully cheery this morning.”

Ruby put their clothes over the bed, smiling as if she was very pleased indeed with something.

“Circumstances… have changed, my queen.”

Meg’s face immediately turned serious.

“What do you mean? What circumstances?” she demanded to know. “Is Crowley on the move?”

“Well, yes, but he was on the move before.”

“Then what has changed, Ruby?” Meg snapped.

Ruby took a step forwards and put both hands over Meg’s belly. Her dark eyes almost glimmered as she replied:

“Everything.”


	4. Chapter 4

Meg’s belly had swollen with the changes of the moon. Sometimes at night, when they were together and awake in bed, incapable of falling asleep, Castiel loved to place a hand over it and feel the life they had created together moving and stretching right underneath her skin.

“Ruby says she’s a girl,” Meg informed him.

Castiel didn’t care either way. He already loved their daughter even though he hadn’t met her yet. But of course, there were people who were going to care.

“She can’t be the heir of Angelia. I’m sorry. Only sons can inherit the throne.”

Meg clicked her tongue, frustrated.

“Here, it doesn’t matter either way,” she told him. “She will be Queen of Daemonia when the god of Death calls my name. Why can’t it be the same in your country?”

“That is the law.”

“Well, your brother is the king. Can’t he change the law?”

Castiel chuckled and inched closer to her on the bed.

“The Angeli people are very adverse to change,” he explained. “But it doesn’t matter. We can have another one when I return.”

Meg’s expression grew somber, but Castiel didn’t have time to ask what the matter was. She rolled over and buried her face in his neck, holding on as close as she could with the belly between the two.

“Yes,” she muttered, her hot breath tingling over his skin. “When you return.”

 

* * *

 

The Leviathans had advanced inside of the kingdom, bringing chaos and destruction with them. Entire villages had been burned down to the ground and the fields had been watered with blood. The reports they received were alarming, as the King’s Militia (as it had come to be known) had been forced to flee and retreat over and over again.

“I told you your brilliant idea of arming the people wasn’t going to work and it hasn’t worked. They’re farmers and pastors, not soldiers,” Abaddon said, her long red hair almost bristling with fury. She had come back to the castle after a long absence and she didn't bring good news with her. “We need to change strategies and we need to change it now, or we’ll have those beasts at our door before the next full moon.”

“What do you suggest we do then?” Meg asked, almost as furious as her. Abaddon opened her mouth but it was Alastair that answered:

“Call upon the army to retreat. Bring them back so they can defend the capital. We have very little time before Crowley arrives and…”

“So you’re saying we should leave all those villages between the last Leviathan attack and the castle unprotected?” Castiel asked, horrified at how fast Alastair had reached that decision.

“The Queen and the heir are more important,” Alastair replied, sharply. “I thought you, as King, would agree that protecting your family is a priority.”

“Of course they are the most important thing for me!” Castiel argued. “That’s why I’m thinking about the future. If the Queen wins the war by sacrificing them all, how can her people respect her afterwards? How can they accept our child as ruler?”

The Council’s chamber had erupted in ramblings and shouting. It was in that moment of chaos that Castiel sneaked a glance at Meg. Her eyes were empty and both her hands were on her belly, and she looked desperate and scared. As if she was considering Alastair’s suggestion. As if she was sure there would really be no way for them to win this war and they might as well cut their losses. But that vanished in a heartbeat and then she was back to being the Queen he knew.

“Enough!” she shouted. All her advisers went quiet at once and slumped back on their seats. “The king is right. We cannot desert the people.”

“But, my queen…”

“Abaddon is also right,” Meg continued, talking over Alastair’s protests. “We need a new strategy and we need it now. So, I’m listening.”

There was some more talking over each other until Casey raised her voice louder than the rest.

“The Angelai reinforcements had been called. They can boost our numbers…”

“We can’t really wait until they arrive,” Lilith intervened. “And in any case, numbers mean nothing to the Leviathans. They can take on entire armies. They’re like a horde of locusts, devouring everything in their path…”

Meg slowly raised her eyes at her.

“And what if they had nothing to devour?”

Everybody looked at her, unsure of what to answer to that. Meg was staring at the map of her kingdom, analyzing the marks and flags that marked the position of the Leviathans and their army, commanded by Cain. Everyone in the room held their breath until Meg raised her head again, resolution glimmering in her eyes.

“Abaddon, you will take your knights to join Cain. You’ll leave tomorrow.”

“Who will protect the castle?” Abaddon asked, frowning. “Who will protect you?”

“The King’s Militia will,” Meg said. “These are my orders: tell every peasant, every fisher and farmer and herder you find on the way, to gather their families and flee. Tell them to kill their beasts and salt the meat to eat on their way, poison their wells and burn their homes. Make them understand that if they die, there’ll be no one there to rebuild anyway. The lords shall abandon their castles, but they will leave their tapestries and treasures behind, for the Leviathans can’t eat gold. They have to destroy everything and anything that the Leviathans could possibly use to feed their army. Tell them to come here and leave nothing but a wasteland for the Leviathans to cross.”

All eyes were on Meg, almost jumping out of their sockets.

“They will refuse,” Tessa warned her.

“Then it’s up to Abaddon to make sure my orders are obeyed,” Meg said. “By any means necessary.”

Abaddon’s grin sent a chill down Castiel’s spine. Almost like a rabid dog whose muzzle had been removed, she was already relishing in all the bloodbath that she could cause.

“Send a messenger to Cain. Tell him not to engage the Leviathans directly, less they will destroy the forces we have left,” Meg continued, as if the previous issue was perfectly settled. “You will do the same thing, cousin. Only fight short, quick battles and retreat before you lose any more soldiers. Bleed them out. Weaken them. You must lure the Leviathans to a good position so you can make a stand, whatever that place might be between where they are now and the capital. You’ll need to decide this once you’re ready and you’ll only be ready once the Angelai are there to join you.”

Abaddon wasn’t as pleased with those instructions.

“My knights and I are more than capable of…”

“I know you are or you will not have served me as long as you have,” Meg interrupted her. “But this isn’t like any enemy we have faced before. We must count with our allies by our side or we will perish. The queen has spoken.”

“The kingdom shall listen,” the advisers murmured.

Meg waited until she was alone with Castiel to show again all her worries and fear.

“How far away is your brother’s army?” she asked, for perhaps the twelfth time.

“He will be here soon enough,” Castiel promised her, helping her stand up. “He can’t pass up the opportunity to protect an heir. No matter what Ruby says, it could still be a boy.”

Meg scoffed, as if the mere insinuation that Ruby could be wrong was naïve and stupid.

“I want to watch the sea,” she determined. “Come with me.”

Meg’s steps and movements were heavy and slow as she leaned into him. The creases of her dress didn’t hide her swollen belly at all and in fact, all her clothes seemed designed for her to proudly showcase her pregnancy. That was baffling to Castiel, because in Angelia, women tended to use loose clothes or even stay hidden from the public eye until after the child was born. It was just another of those little cultural differences he was still getting used to.

They arrived to their chambers and Meg opened the doors to hers. After many months, Castiel had finally been admitted into it, though he suspected it had more to do with Meg’s state than with her opening up to him.

He moved a chair closer to the window and held Meg’s hand until she sat down. Unlike his, her window didn’t open to the castle’s stables and yard, but to the cliff the castle was perched unto and the ocean underneath. Looking down was vertiginous, but Meg enjoyed the salty breeze that blew and the sight of the waves crashing constantly against the rocks. She looked most peaceful when she concentrated, a hand over her belly and her curls messy over her shoulders.

Once again, Castiel was incredibly mesmerized at how beautiful she was.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit he was in love with his wife. It was surprising still, because love wasn’t one of the things that he had expected to get from his marriage. He assumed that eventually they could come to be friends or at least to have sort of cordial agreement. Meg didn’t expect or demand he loved her, only that he was faithful to her even if she, in her heart, perhaps wasn’t. Castiel was well aware of that fact. He also was aware that Meg was intelligent and passionate and cared intensely for her people. So he couldn’t help but to fall in love with her and be overjoyed that their first child would be born in a few short moons.

As to what Meg thought about that… it was hard to tell. She had been almost obsessed with conceiving an heir since their wedding night and when Ruby finally confirmed it had happened, she had reacted with immense relief. The few following nights, she hadn’t asked him to sleep with her. Castiel had thought that perhaps now that they didn’t have to lie together, she would stop coming to his bed and it saddened him a little.

But she had surprised (as she always did) one night, standing on her chamber’s doorway and looking at him with crooked eyebrow.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you coming?”

Castiel was always happy to please his queen.

They still made love most nights and it was as sweet as it could be, now that the sense of urgency had disappeared. She was calmer and slept better at night, sometimes letting him cuddle up to her or snuggling against his chest until Ruby came to bring them their clothes and provide information of what was going on. On those mornings, Castiel had almost believed she would come to love him back.

That had been until the fateful morning when Ruby had arrived without her usual beam.

“A messenger from Sir Cain’s army arrived an hour ago, my queen,” she’d announced. “The Leviathans reached our kingdom… two northern villages have been invaded. They are retreating to Lord Ramiel’s castle.”

Meg had sat up on the bed. She had gone pale, but neither her expression nor her gestures had betrayed what she was thinking.

“Castiel,” she’d muttered softly. “Write to your brother.”

And just like that, the queen who was always so troubled that couldn’t spare him a glance sometimes returned. But as their child grew inside of her, they still manage to snatch some time together, just like they were doing then.

Meg opened her eyes and looked at him. A smirk appeared on her lips.

“You’re quiet, my king.”

“Just enjoying the moment,” Castiel replied, smiling back at her. “Silence and peace are scarce these days and I’m sure they’ll soon become even rarer.”

Meg’s smirk became fainter. She stretched her hand towards him and he moved his chair closer to hers to grab it.

“Do you have to leave with the Angeli army?” she asked, once again. “You could stay here. If you say you trust the Winchesters to command it, then I trust them too. You don’t have to go.”

Castiel shook his head very slowly.

“Somebody has to mediate between them and Cain and Abaddon. You said it yourself, no one can take on the Leviathans by themselves. But if we don’t coordinate our attack, we might as well assume this war will be lost.”

Meg’s lip twitched in discomfort at that affirmation, but she didn’t argue. She knew he was right.

“You are fit for that job, it’s true. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only rational voice amongst the panic of my Council.”

“I try to do my best,” Castiel said humbly. “And that is why you need me to leave with the Angeli.”

Meg lowered her eyes at their intertwined hands. Her thumb distractedly drew circles in his skin.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll have to like it,” she muttered.

“Will my queen miss me?” Castiel asked, almost playfully.

“Your queen will be busy coordinating the rescue of all those who will flood my city and having a child,” Meg answered. “She might not even notice you’ll be gone.”

Castiel tried to hide how disappointing that answer was, but Meg grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him closer.

“But your wife will.”

 

* * *

 

Abaddon looked like the goddess of war herself with her long red hair falling over shoulders and Meg’s colors proudly displayed on her clothes. She was fierce and she was strong and she was happiest when she was charging against an enemy. Despite their constant disagreements, Meg was happy to have her cousin on her side. Which was another way to say, she hoped she never found herself on the wrong end of Abaddon’s sword.

“Ready yourselves!” Abaddon called out and all her knights, both on foot and on their horses, immediately adopted a very rigid pose.

Meg stood in front of them and studied the faces of the men and women she was probably sending to their deaths. She lifted up her chin and tried to look like the queen she was never really meant to be.

“May the goddess of war bless our side of the field,” she recited. “And if the god of death calls your name, may he find you with your sword still in your hand.”

“Long live our queen!” Abaddon shouted. “Long live Daemonia!”

The sentiment was echoed all through the troops. It was a short but effective ceremony. Meg hoped the fervor would last them until they reached the actual battlefield.

“Best be on our way,” Abaddon said, chirpily, as she climbed on her horse. “Mother Moon bless you and my niece, cousin.”

“May the god of death not call your name too early, so you will have a chance to actually meet her,” Meg replied.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. If I see that son of a bitch, I’ll just tell him to call my name another day.” Abaddon shrugged with her usual arrogance. She grabbed her horse’s reins and smiled. “Any message you want me to take to dear old Cain?”

Meg was shaken by the suggestion. Why would Abaddon, who couldn’t care less about Meg’s feelings and tribulations, ask something like that?

“Just my blessings and my regards,” she said. “Tell them I hope that he, too, has a chance to meet the princess.”

If Abaddon found anything strange about this, her face didn’t betray her. She only sank her ankles in her horse and followed her troops through the castle’s gates.

A hand came to rest around Meg’s waist. She didn’t have to look around to know that it was Castiel. She didn’t try to get away when he left a kiss on the top of her hair, but she immediately stepped away right afterwards.

“My queen?” he inquired. He was always so solicit. Meg didn’t understand how he could always be ready to receive her instructions and obey them. All the men she had known in her life rarely, if ever, did that.

“I’m a bit tired,” she replied. “I’ll go to my chambers and rest. If anyone needs me, could you please answer for me?”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded. “I will see you tonight at dinner.”

Meg smiled warily at him and mentally prepared herself for the chore that it was to climb the stairs. Their daughter was getting heavier by the day, causing Meg near constant back pain. Her feet were swollen and sweaty, so she felt like she was waddling more often than not those days. She had taken to sit by the window and wish for some rain to relief her heat.

But she needed to get away from Castiel. At least for now.

She couldn't outright tell him to go away, not without having to explain the reason. But it was also getting harder to look at him in the eye and receive his displays of affection every moment they were near.

Ruby was waiting for her in her chamber, of course. Meg never needed to call for the Seer to know the queen wanted to talk to her.

"How are you today, my queen?" she asked, dragging Meg's favorite chair closer so she could sit.

"I'm tired," Meg complained.

Ruby smiled and sat right in front of her. Her expert hands felt up Meg's belly and she nodded to herself with satisfaction, as if she had found exactly what she expected.

"She's going to be healthy and beautiful," she promised Meg. "The pride of all Daemonia."

Meg didn't need to hear that to know it. It was going to be her daughter, after all, and she was going to be raised to be a queen.

"That is not what concerns you, though," Ruby understood, moving back a little bit to study Meg's face. "What weighs down on my queen's heart?"

"You know damn well what does," Meg snapped. "You could have spared me your latest predictions, Ruby."

Ruby lowered her eyes, but the gesture seemed insincere, like she was only feigning shame.

“I only told you what I thought you wanted to hear. I believed you’d be happy with these news.”

“You told me I would win the war but lose my husband,” Meg pointed out, angrily. “How is that supposed to please me?”

“I told you that was the most likely outcome,” Ruby corrected her. “Fate is a garden of forking paths and I can see where each of them leads. The way things are unfolding right now, this is what will happen. I’m sorry, my queen.”

Meg bit her lip and absentmindedly rubbed a hand over her belly.

“And isn’t there any way to change this path?” she asked. “Isn’t there any way for me to win the war and have Castiel survive?”

Ruby slowly shook her head no.

“He has to fight in the frontline for the final battle to succeed,” she explained, again.

“But it will cost him his life!”

When Ruby looked up again, Meg was suddenly reminded who she was talking to. Just underneath the surface of her aloof lady-in-waiting, there was a power very few could understand. The Seer had been with her family for longer than it should be possible. Meg remembered being a child and Ruby already having the same appearance as she did right now, with her olive skin as terse as always and her hair black as a raven’s wing. She knew of brews and spells, she knew secret prayers that guaranteed the gods would listen to her, some of which she had taught Meg. And of course, she could see into the garden of forking paths and advice the best way for Daemonia to prosper. Meg’s grandfather trusted her judgment and so did his father, and so did her.

But when she was questioned and doubted, Ruby could become terrible in her anger.

“Do you think you’re the only woman who will be widowed by the war?” she asked, as her eyes turned entirely pitch black. “Do you think your daughter will be the only child to grow without a father? Are you so arrogant as to believe that your pain will be unique? What do you want him for anyway? He pleased you in bed and he gave you an heir. That was all you needed from him.”

Meg covered her belly protectively, but other than that, she didn’t allow herself any other gesture that would reveal she was scared of the Seer. She didn’t want Ruby to see the depth of her desperation.

Marriages like hers weren’t supposed to be built on love or even desire. They were supposed to fulfill a duty and little else. If they never touched each other again after conceiving an heir, if afterwards the king wanted to take on a mistress or several to keep himself occupied, that mattered very little. She had thought Castiel would never be anything to her other than her children’s father. But as time had gone by, she had come to a simple realization: he was _hers_ , and she wasn’t about to give him up to anybody so easily. That included the god of death.

She had grown used to Castiel’s calming presence and his smart arguments by her side when she had to face her Council. When she found she was with child, she had tried sleeping alone in her bed again, but she realize soon she wanted to hear his breathing by her side, waking up to his face again and feel his hands holding her close and delicate, as if she was a precious thing that could break.

But those were entirely selfish reason a queen shouldn’t have, so she found a different argument instead.

“I need him still,” she told her, proud her voice came out so firm. “You said there was a chance Gabriel will accept our daughter as his heir, which means she will be Queen of Angelia as well as Daemonia. She will need her father to teach her about the uses and laws of Angelia. For her to be a good ruler, she needs us both.”

Ruby’s eyes returned to normal after a blink. She looked pensive, as if she had not considered that until now.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she muttered. She stated quiet and immobile for a while, and Meg knew she was looking into the paths that stretched out before them. “But that changes nothing. Castiel still will lead the charge in battle and the god of Death still will call his name. That is inevitable.”

Meg pursed her lips.

“And is there no way to prevent that from happening?” she continued asking. “An amulet to protect him from his wounds, a healer that can travel with him to save him? Anything?”

Ruby toyed with the hem of her robe.

“There is… a spell that can bring someone from the brink of death,” she said, speaking very slowly, as if she was choosing her words with immense care. “It’s ancient magic. Powerful magic. And it’s very complex. As the person who sits in the throne of Daemonia, you have some privileges, though. You may just be able to cast it.”

She didn’t need to add that there were risks involved. Meg knew this. There were always risks when it came to magic and especially magic of the caliber Ruby was speaking about. But Meg thought about Castiel, she thought about her husband dying among the mud and the blood and the shit that would cover the battlefield and the decision really wasn’t hard to make.

“Let’s try it.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel was fast asleep when Meg left his side that night. Despite how much she had grown in size, she still could move in silence and get her clothes on without help. She didn’t bothered with shoes, though. They were uncomfortable, and where she was going, she wasn’t going to need them. She had to move fast so she could return while the face of Mother Moon still shone upon them so she could slid back on the bed with him. On the doorway, she stopped and watched his sleeping form underneath the sheets.

If he had known what she was about to do, he probably would beg her not to go. He knew, of course, that Meg had a certain knowledge of magic, but he tried not to bring it up or even think about it and it was better that way for the two of them. There were many things he didn’t understand and he couldn’t know. This was an aspect of her life Meg could never share with her husband, because no woman ever could. And she couldn’t explain the reasons she was doing this, not without betraying herself.

With her resolution strengthened, Meg tiptoed out to the darkened hallways and towards a tapestry that covered a wall. It depicted King Lucifer, the first king of Daemonia, mounted atop of his terrible black dragon with red ruby eyes. He held his flaming broadsword defiantly towards the starry sky, ready to strike his enemies and reclaim his throne. Behind the tapestry there was a wall with a loose brick and pressing it revealed a passage with a narrow stair that led outside the castle, to a part of the beach secluded from sight by the cliffs and rocks around it.

Meg remembered her mother guiding her down those stairs when she was still too young to understand what it meant, she remembered how her heart had beat with excitement when she was told this was a secret that she couldn’t share with her father or her brother. In time, Meg would guide her own daughter down those steps and when she was too old and frail to keep climbing them down, her daughter would guide her.

“It’s going to be you and me, Selene,” she muttered, touching her belly with tenderness. “You will learn the cult of Mother Moon and rule the kingdom with her blessing.”

It was considered bad luck to name a child before it was born, but Meg couldn’t care less for that silly superstition. She knew Selene would be born healthy and beautiful. It was just a matter of giving her the best life she could afterwards.

Meg’s toes sank in the sand, the cool of the sea breeze blowing through her face. She breathed the salty scent of the sea and stood on the archway at the end of the stairs, resting for a moment before she continued walking. Her coven was already gathered underneath the pale moonlight, all of them sporting the same black robes as her. Tessa was sitting on a rock, collecting seashells and conchs, while Casey and Lilith talked to one another in hurried whispers. Ruby, as always, was a little further away, dipping her feet on the ocean with her eyes raised to the moon. But when they say her coming, they all straightened their backs and flock to her side to kiss her on both cheeks as a sign of respect and affection.

“Mother Moon bless you and your child, my queen,” Lilith said, like they did every month when they gathered in that spot.

“Mother Moon bless us all,” Meg replied as each of the women took their places on the circle. “And may she bless our sister Abaddon, who is far from us tonight, fighting a war that could decide the future of Daemonia.”

They all murmured their agreement and joined hands, lowering their heads to elevate their silent prayers to their goddess. In peaceful times, that was all that was needed from them: to pray for their families, pray for Mother Moon’s protection and for their families to prosper and stay healthy. But on troubled times such as the ones they were living, sometimes something else was needed from them. Meg noticed that Ruby had already gathered a small pile of driftwood to the side and as soon as the prayer was finished, Tessa was the first to speak:

“Why do we need a fire tonight, my queen? I thought we had completed all the rituals to protect you during childbirth.”

“We have, and I have no doubt in my mind both me and my daughter will be perfectly fine,” Meg replied. “But as you know, my husband shall leave soon with his brother’s army and I fear for his destiny. I humbly request you join your energies to mine in casting a spell to protect him.”

Tessa, Casey and Lilith exchanged a look and Meg could almost feel what they were thinking. They had all though, like Ruby, that she had no sincere affection for Castiel.

“Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for you to make this request to the goddess of war?” Casey asked, frowning.

“Last time I begged her, my prayers went unattended,” Meg reminded her. “No, I’m not praying to her anymore.”

The revelation made all except Ruby pale slightly.

“My queen, you can’t possibly be serious,” Lilith said, dropping her voice as if that would prevent the gods from listening to her. “Are we praying to the god of death?”

A contemptuous snickered was her answer. They all turned to Ruby, slightly irritated.

“The god of death listens to no one’s prayers,” she reminded them. “Praying to him would be a waste of this wonderful moon that energizes us.”

“Then?” Tessa insisted. “Who are we praying to?”

“No one,” Ruby replied. She leaned over and used her flint to produce some sparks. In a heartbeat, there was a nice fire eating at the driftwood as the Seer stood up. "The god of Death cannot be persuaded, but he can be tricked. Tonight, sisters, we will prepare a spell to protect our king from having his name called when the time comes."

Tessa, Casey and Lilith still looked unconvinced.

"Please, sisters," Meg said. "I beg of you, help me in this endeavor. Help me protect my family and our alliance to Angelia."

She could order them to do it, of course. As Queen of Daemonia, that automatically also made her Mother Moon's High Priestess among them and leader of the coven. If she told them they had no option but to along and lend their energy to the spell, they would have to do it. But in something as delicate as this, it was best if she counted with their willing disposition.

They hesitated for a moment longer and then one by one walked around and took their place by the fire. Its flames were blue and green in the night and it barely gave out any heat. Still, Meg felt the sweat drip down her spine as she joined hands with her sisters and started reciting the words she had memorized in the old scrolls Ruby had brought to her.

It was a long spell and each word had to be pronounced with utmost care. She couldn't make any mistakes, not for something as delicate as this, and if she made one, she wouldn't be able to start over. She would have to try the following moon. And it might just be too late then. She closed her eyes, the fire crackling and rising with every one of her words. Her skin prickled and the hairs in her arm and the back of her head stood to attention with the magic that started to fill the air.

Ruby's eyes went black first. It was easiest for her to fall into the trance that would guarantee her will and her energy would go exactly where she directed them. Tessa's eyes lost their color next, and so did Lilith's and Casey's.

Meg took a deep breath between words before she let the magic, the spirit of Mother Moon, take over her. Since she was with child, all of her attention, all the energies in her body would go to preserving Selene's well-being. But that night she needed a little bit of that energy for this. She was doing this for her daughter, after all. For her not to grow without a father.

She was doing it out of love and that was perhaps the most powerful magic to wield.

Ruby took out a chalice and a dagger from the sleeves of her robe and held it over the flames while Meg continued the incantation. Slowly, the Seer made her way around the fire and towards Meg, who let go of the hands she was holding to extend her arm over the fire. Delicately, Ruby sank the tip on her blade right underneath her wrist. Meg ignored the sharp pain as it bit her skin and raised her eyes towards Mother Moon, begging her to listen, begging her to see the lengths Meg was willing to go to protect what was hers. Begging her for the strength to finish the spell.

The blood dripped down onto the chalice as Meg pronounced the final lines of the incarnation.

"Say his name," Ruby ordered in a whisper.

"Castiel of the Angeli, King of Daemonia, beloved," Meg said. "The god of death shall spare your name once and nevermore."

A gust of wind shook their robes and extinguished the fire, leaving nothing but wisp of light grey smoke rising up in the night. Meg's knees gave in, and Tessa, Casey and Lilith hurried to her side to hold her. Meg put a hand over her belly. She thought she fell Selene kicking, but as she breathed in the cool night breeze to calm her beating heart, she realized it had been just her imagination. Selene slept peacefully inside her body, ignorant still of the mysteries and powers that would belong to her one day.

Ruby was dripping the blood into a glass vial and sealing it with a cork.

"It is done," she announced as the rest of the cover helped Meg sit down on the sand with her back against a rock. Ruby walked up to her and extended the vial at her. "Make sure he drinks this before leaving for battle. And another shall take his place."

“Wait, what do you mean?” Meg asked, raising her eyes at the Seer. “Who will take his place?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby replied with a shrug. “When the god of Death must call a name, he calls a name. This ensures he will not call the king’s name. But he could call anyone’s name in his place. It could be a foot soldier’s, it could his own brother’s. It could be yours.”

She didn’t say it, but Meg understood it in her words nonetheless: ‘ _It could be your daughter’s. Serves you right for naming her before she’s even born_.’

“Ruby, that was not part of the plan!” she exclaimed.

Ruby’s lips pursed in a gesture of irritation.

“You asked me for a spell to protect your husband. I taught you exactly that. You knew there’s always implications, always a price to pay for magic like this. Do not blame me if the price is not to your liking.”

Meg shifted in her coven’s hands and they let go, only to collectively take a step backwards. It was as if they sensed that this wasn’t a matter for them at all.

But as Meg advanced to face Ruby, her fury dimmed. The seer told the truth. If Meg had been far too arrogant to see it, she had no one to blame for it but herself. She covered her face with her hands and almost laughed out loud.

“He will never accept it,” she muttered. “He will never let anyone take his place if he must die. He is too noble for that.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Ruby pointed out. “You could slip it in his drink when you’re having dinner the night before he leaves. This is a bargain you are making with Death. Your husband doesn’t need to know about it.”

Meg lowered her eyes to her hand. The vial suddenly weighed a ton in it.


	5. Chapter 5

The refugees from the villages and castles started flooding them soon after Meg gave her orders. The noblemen and their wives suddenly were all over the castle, as were their servants and their children. Castiel saw them in the yard, the young ones playing with wooden swords, the older ones training with real swords and hitting bullseyes with their arrows. It surprised him (even though it really should have by this point) to see that even the girls and the women practiced with their weapons.

“I’m excited to ride by your side, my king,” said a blonde girl when he went to the yard to train with his own sword. Her name was Joanna Harvelle, and for what Castiel could understand, she was the only child of a widowed noblewoman. “When I heard you had suggested we should train the common people, I was certain you would be someone I would be honored to fight and die with.”

“Well, hopefully it won’t get to that,” Castiel said, a little astonished by the girl’s directness. “Forgive me, you just seem… very young.”

He was also going to say she looked very petite, especially underneath the leathered armored. Jo smiled at him, took an arrow from her carcass and expertly placed it in her bow. The string vibrated in the air and in the blink of an eye, the arrow was now firmly sank right in the center of the bullseye ahead of them.

“In Daemonia, everyone who wants to take up arms to defend their home is allowed to. Well, at least the noble were until you made it that way for everyone,” she explained. “No matter their age, their size or their gender. Though I do know my mother would prefer it I was more like one of those perfumed ladies of Angelia who do nothing but bear children.” She snickered, but the laughter immediately froze in her throat. “I’m sorry, my king. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“None taken,” Castiel smiled at her. “I have come to understand the women of Angelia are very different to those of Daemonia.”

Yet another week had to pass before the Angeli army finally arrived.

Castiel saw their shadow approaching from the battlement, saw the colors of his house (blue and white like the sky) flaming on top of them and flew downstairs as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Open the gates!” he ordered to the guards.

They obeyed him immediately and Castiel stood there, smiling and waiting as the cloud of dust that were his countrymen became distinguishable. Four familiar faces lead the charge and Castiel’s heart fluttered with pure joy in his chest to see them.

Gabriel was the first one to stop his horse, and disregarding all protocol, he jumped from it and ran to embrace Castiel in a tight hug. The two brothers laughed out loud and Gabriel patted his younger brother’s cheek when they broke away.

“Well, marriage is a good look on you, little brother!” he commented.

“Why are you here?” Castiel asked, as the joy he felt to see him slowly ceded to a certain fear. “You’re not… you’re not fighting the Leviathans, are you?”

“Of course not. You know I’m a terrible warrior,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. “No, I’m here to meet your son when he’s born and recognize him as my heir.”

Castiel forced himself to keep on smiling, not daring to tell him that both Ruby and Meg were convinced the child would be a girl.

“Alright, give some way,” Dean said. He too hugged Castiel tight and so did Sam and Benny when he moved away.

Castiel was so glad to see their friends he almost didn’t realize that Meg had come down to the yard as well. But as usual, her gaze prickled in the back of his neck and he knew right away he would find her when he turned around. She padded towards them with a courteous smirk.

“Welcome, my friends.”

“Ah, sister,” Gabriel said, while Dean, Sam and Benny respectfully bowed their heads to her. Gabriel, on the other hand, walked up to her, grabbed her hand and left a kiss on her knuckles. “It’s good to see you as well. May I just add that you look gorgeous?”

Meg’s smirk became a little tenser. Castiel wondered if she was thinking about something similar to the Harvelle girl, about how the women in Angelia did nothing but bear children.

“Forgive me, my castle is a bit… crowded, these days,” she said without even addressing Gabriel’s compliment. “Of course, you’re welcome in, but please instruct your men to stay outside the walls. I will order refreshment be sent to them and their horses so you can be well-rested when you leave.”

“Leave?” Gabriel asked, rising an eyebrow as if he thought Meg was joking with him. “My dear sister, we’ve just arrived.”

“I’m afraid time is of the essence.”

 

* * *

 

“The Leviathans had stricken here, here and here,” Alastair said, as he pointed the positions on the map. “They’re advancing at a vertiginous speed, and all our forces have done is retreat. Abaddon and Cain are doing what they can to contain their tide, but every day we receive more and more villagers that ran from their homes. Some joined their armies and some more are ready to join yours as soon as you live, but I’m afraid numbers are a very poor advantage when we’re talking about warriors as fierce and cruel as them. That is why they are gathering their forces… here,” he concluded, pointing a spot on the map.

“The Valley of Dragons,” Meg commented. “In the past it has always been a strategic position to defend our kingdom. Many a glorious battle had been fought there and Daemonia has prevailed through every single one of them.”

“Forgive me, your Grace,” Benny interrupted, frowning. “If the Valley has always been a strategic position, everyone in Daemonia must know about it. Even the traitor, Crowley, who commands the Leviathans.”

“Oh, we know,” Meg nodded. “Which is why we have devised a strategy to fool them. My king?”

Castiel stood up, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes of both Meg and Gabriel’s Councils boring unto him. He took a deep breath and started explaining his strategy, pointing at the map and speaking with a confidence he had to fail. Growing up as a prince, he had learned about battles and warriors and of course, he’d had plenty of time to study the history of Daemonia, which had more than a few brilliant strategist throughout the centuries. But it was the first time he applied all that knowledge into a practical battle plan. He really wished Meg wouldn’t be looking at him with such confidence and that everyone in the war room didn’t go silent as soon as he finished.

Dean was the first to speak up.

“Well… that might just work.”

A rumor of agreement swept the room, and Castiel felt his nervousness growing as he sat down. But immediately Meg stretched her hand to squeeze his and it all became a little more tolerable.

“We need to send word to Abaddon and Cain so they know this is our plan and that the Angeli are coming,” Meg said. “Who is the fastest rider you’ve got?”

“That would be me, your Grace,” Benny said, standing from his chair. “If you’d be so kind to give me a map, some food for the road and a fresh horse, I can leave before sunrise.”

“So be it,” Meg said. “Half of the King’s Militia will remain in the castle for defense, but I want the other half of it to be ready to leave with the Angeli army. We will give you as much food as we can, but I’m afraid you will have to hunt during the ride to keep your soldiers fed.”

“It won’t be a problem, your Grace. We have brought the troops here, we can undertake this task,” Sam replied. “All we ask you is to give us two nights of rest.”

Meg’s mouth tightened, as if she wasn’t happy at all with that time frame, but ultimately she nodded.

“Very well. You will leave the day after tomorrow, at sunrise. The queen has spoken.”

“The kingdom shall listen,” Castiel repeated along with the rest of her advisers. It wasn’t until he saw the looks in his brother and friend’s faces that he realized they weren’t privy to Daemonia’s ceremonial phrases.

He helped her stand up and walked her towards the door as always.

“I have business to tend to,” Meg told him. “Make sure Lord Laffite has everything he needs before he leaves.”

“I shall. My queen?” he called her before she could turn around. “I kindly request you excuse me from joining you for dinner tonight. I haven’t seen my brother and my friends in a long time and I would like to spend some time with them.”

“Yes, of course. As long as you spend your last night in the castle with me,” she added.

“No one I would rather spend it with,” Castiel replied. He kissed her hand and they both went their separate ways.

His friends were expecting him at the end of the hallway. They all were staring at him with crooked eyebrows and surprise expressions.

“Is there a problem?” Castiel asked, frowning at them.

“Man, she’s got you on a short leash, doesn’t she?”

Sam elbowed his brother, Gabriel snickered and Benny shook his head, smiling to himself. Castiel had the impression he had missed some sort of joke between them.

 

* * *

 

Benny was ready to go in less than an hour. Castiel could imagine he was just as exhausted as the rest of the Angelai, but the burly man never showed signs of tiredness. He was still smiling when he jumped on the horse and waved at them.

“I will see you all in the battlefield,” he said. “And we will drink to Castiel and Dean’s sons health.”

He sank his heels on the horse’s side and was out of the gate so fast Castiel didn’t even have time to recover from the surprise.

“You have a son?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s kind of a long story.”

It wasn’t a long story. Dean had won the summer tournament and crowned Lisa Braeden, the only daughter of a rather low ranking nobleman, as his Chosen Lady. That night Lisa had slid inside of his tent.

“I’m sure she had to beg you to do it. You would never dishonor a woman like that,” Sam said, rolling his eyes and Gabriel snickered over his chalice of wine.

“Yeah, well,” Dean grunted. “Two months later I get a letter from Lord Braden telling me Lisa is with child and demanding I either marry her or fight him in a duel to death for her honor. She was a maiden before that night, so we all know that kid is mine.”

“So you’re married now,” Castiel said. He was trying with all his might not to laugh.

“What else could I do? Kill an old man?” Dean huffed. “We received your news telling us that the Leviathans were coming close, so we had to rush it. This way, if I die in the battlefield, the kid won’t be born a bastard and Lisa will be a respectable widow. They’ll be fine.”

“Yes. The problem is if you survive and have to go home to your wife,” Sam pointed out. Dean gulped down the rest of his wine nervously.

“Why would you wish that on me?”

Castiel and Gabriel burst into laughter at his face. It was rather a terrible thing that Dean would prefer to die than have to go back home and face his family, but they might have had too much to drink at that point to really care.

“It’s torture,” Dean complained. “I have to wait until I go home to lay with her again lest I will make another bastard. See, this is why I preferred whores and commoner girls over actual ladies. They know what herbs to take to prevent this sort of thing and if they have a bastard, they won’t expect you to marry them. It’s much less of a hassle.”

“Why did you sleep with Lady Lisa, then?”

Dean shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

“Because she was too beautiful to pass up the chance,” he groaned, sowing another round of laughter around the table.

“Good thing I never had an inclination for pretty maidens,” Gabriel commented. “I always knew my seed would never end up making a bastard.”

“I think you’ve had enough of that,” Sam told him, moving the jar of wine out of Gabriel’s reach.

The king gave his lover a drowsy smile and leaned against him, like a cat waiting to be pet. Sam passed an arm around his shoulder and ruffle his hair. It was innocent and kind. Someone who didn’t know the truth would have thought it was just an affectionate gesture between friends who trusted each other or between a king and his favorite knight. Castiel wondered what would Gabriel be thinking, knowing Sam would have to leave for battle in just a few short days.

“And how about you, Cas? How are you handling it?” Dean asked. “The whole being married to an evil queen and all that.”

“Meg is not evil,” Castiel protested. “She cares deeply for her people and her kingdom. She has… uses that would be considered a sin by our church, but I have learned to respect those differences.”

Their friends gave them the same stunted look as before.

“What?”

“Such a short leash you must be choking,” Dean determined and they all laughed once more.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t think Meg kept him on a leash. On the contrary, she let him do pretty much as he pleased, as long as he came to her chambers in the night. The rest of the things he did (participating in the council, drafting battle plans) he did because he cared for her. He didn’t think Dean would understand it the way he talked about his brand new wife, so he didn’t even try to explain it to him.

That night he drank too much and slept on Dean’s room and when he woke up the following day with a mild headache, Ruby was there (because of course she was) with an infusion of herbs and Meg’s instructions that he should oversee which members of “his” Militia were on conditions of accompanying the Angeli army.

He was lucky to count on Joanna Harvelle (“Call me Jo, please, my king”) for that task. He had seen the common men and women training in the yard, but he didn’t know them all that well. Jo helped him sort out which of them lacked form or resistance and wouldn’t survive a cruel battle and which could still help defend the castle if they were provided with at least some long-range weapons.

“If you give me until this afternoon, my king, I’m sure I can find more on the nearby village,” Jo told him. “We wouldn’t want to leave the queen defenseless.”

“Of course not. And thank you.”

Jo smirked at him before she jumped unto her horse and informed him she would be back before sundown so she could leave with him and the army on the morning. Castiel wished he could have convinced her to stay, but there was no way to make Daemonai women do anything against their will. He had learned that pretty fast with Meg.

She was laying in her divan when he came up to her chambers that night. The dinner was served and she seemed to be slumbering, but she opened her eyes and sat up the moment she heard him come in.

“Good night, husband,” she greeted him. He thought he perceived a certain sharpness in her words. That was unusual, unless she was angry at her advisers or tired.

“My queen. Please don’t get up,” he added as he quickly slid a chair next to her and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to share your bed last night. I… got distracted.”

“Yes, I noticed that,” she said, still somehow bitterly. She sighed and shook her head. “I guess I cannot blame you. You’ve been pretty much deprived of other… company, besides mine, since you’ve arrived here.”

“I very much enjoy your company,” Castiel smiled. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

The way Meg pursed her lips made him think perhaps she still wasn’t ready to let the issue go. But she said nothing more as they sat down and started eating their supper. It was hog’s meat and it wasn’t as tender as it usually was, but Castiel supposed that the kitchens were a little understaffed and undersupplied with all the agitation those days.

“Still, I wouldn’t want you to feel lonely,” she continued after they had taken a few bites.

“I don’t,” he assured her.

“Is that so?” Meg asked meditatively, as she grabbed the jar of wine and poured it on the chalices. “Then why have you been keeping the Harvelle girl around?”

“She’s a capable archer and she knows the militia well,” Castiel said, before the true weigh of Meg’s words fell on him. He had to put down his fork and stare at her, a little surprised. “Is… is there a problem with that?”

“No,” Meg replied quickly, looking away. “No problem at all.”

Castiel remained unconvinced. He stood up to walk around the table and sit with her in the divan. He grabbed her chin and gently turned her head so she couldn’t escape his glance.

“Is my queen jealous?” he asked, trying with all his might not to laugh. Meg seemed even more annoyed that he had even realized it.

“Shouldn’t I be? She clearly has a twinge of hero worship for you,” she pointed out. Castiel didn’t even question how she would know about that. He just assumed she knew everything that went on inside the walls of her castle.

“Even if she does,” he replied, drawing circles with his thumb on her cheek, “that means nothing to me. I’m faithful to you and you alone. Honestly, it surprises me and wounds me a little that you would think otherwise.”

Meg squinted at him. “Are you mocking me, Castiel?”

“I would never dare,” Castiel said, but he couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips.

He turned to take another sip of his chalice, but Meg her hand on top of it and made him put it down. She was staring intensely at him, her lips slightly parted and desire burning in her brown eyes. She left a kiss underneath his ear and grabbed his hand to lead him to bed.

There wasn’t much they could do in her condition, really, and Castiel didn’t expect it. He helped her slid of her dress and delicately laid her down on the mattress, mouths pressed together hungrily and arms around each other’s necks. Meg’s fingers traced the edge of his face, caressed his neck and travelled down his stomach to tangle on the fine hair growing between his navel and his shaft.

“Meg,” he said, breathing out her name the way he only dared to do when they were alone. “We don’t have to… this isn’t… if you don’t want to…”

Meg shut him by biting his lower lip so hard it sent a shiver down his spine.

“If you make us waste this night, Castiel, I swear to all gods that I will go looking for you in the Beyond just to yell at you.”

Castiel laughed. He had to, because of course she would be perfectly capable of such a thing. He wanted to promise to her that no such thing would be necessary, that their next night together would be on this earth still. But he couldn’t do that. War was cruel and indifferent. It didn’t matter if he was king or commoner, he could still day without ever seeing the face of their child.

He shook his head to chase those bleak thoughts away and kissed his queen again. Meg’s hand grip around his cock, delicately at first, but growing tighter as she began fisting it, sending waves of pleasure all through Castiel’s body. He suffocated a moan against her neck and moved his arm underneath her belly until he reached hand between her legs, sinking his fingers in her slick warm and looking for that special little spot he knew she liked him to touch. Meg shook a little under him and let out a deep breath as he started circling his thumb around it, trying to match the rhythm of her pumps.

It wasn’t exactly as making love, but somehow it felt even more intimate than that. This wasn’t about consummating an alliance or conceiving an heir, this wasn’t about their duty as husband and wife. This was about pleasuring each other, spending time together because they didn’t know if they were running out of it. This was the last night they would see each other until the Leviathans were defeated and maybe the last time at all if they weren’t.

Meg pressed her thumb to the tip of his cock and Castiel became undone, spilling his seed in hot short spurts, staining her leg and the covers underneath.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” he mumbled.

Meg shushed him and moved a little closer to him. “Keep going. Please. I’m almost…”

Castiel lowered his mouth to her rosy nipples and took one in his mouth. He sucked gently as he continued to touch her and a moment later, he was rewarded with a loud gasp and Meg’s nails sinking in his scalp. He raised his head to look at her closely. He wanted to memorize her face right then, her eyes close, her mouth agape as she tried to catch her breath, her skin glowing with sweat. He kissed the drops forming on her brow and muttered:

“I love you.”

He hadn’t said it out loud before. They had been married almost a year, but only the threat of oncoming doom had finally given him the courage to confess it. And it didn’t really matter if she said it back or not. If this was the last time Castiel saw her, he needed her to know that.

Meg stared at him, her pitch black eyes returning to brown so fast Castiel could almost tell himself he had imagined it. She rolled over to lie on her side, tucking her head underneath his chin. Castiel placed a hand on her belly and stretched his other arm under her head so she could use it as pillow.

“Come back,” she whispered. “Fight the war and win and come back to me. Come back to us.”

“Does my queen order it?”

“No,” Meg replied, snuggling as close to him as their child allowed them to. “Your wife implores you.”

 

* * *

 

The sun rose far too early for Meg’s liking that day. For once she was awake when Ruby slipped into the room with her clothes. She had been busy watching Castiel’s chest rise and fall with every breath he took and she had to contain the impulse to curse Ruby when her steps stir him awake.

“The army is readying itself,” she informed them. “You must go with them, your Graces.”

“Yes, alright, fine,” Castiel muttered, angrily. “Can I have a moment with my wife, if you don’t mind?”

No one in Daemonia would dare speak like that to Ruby. It was almost fun to see her lips twitch with disapproval right before she left their clothes on the chairs next to the window and slip outside once more. Castiel huffed and turned to look at Meg.

“You would think today of all mornings…”

Meg had to laugh. He was always so cranky in the morning.

She was going to miss that about him.

He helped her get out of the bed and held her dress up so she could slid inside of it. In turn, Meg helped him inside of his shirt and made sure to adjust his doublet. Around the country, hundreds, perhaps thousands of women would be doing the same for their husbands. Their worry and their fear that they might never see their faces again, that their names would be called before they came back home, couldn’t be smaller than hers just because she was a queen.

She had to remind herself of that.

Castiel must have seen something in her face, because he put his hand on her cheek and smiled at her.

He didn’t say a word and neither did her. He held her hand all the way downstairs, were the men and women were readying their horses and their weapons. She spotted Jo Harvelle’s blonde hair next to her chestnut horse. They were arguing, if their gestures and expressions were anything to go by, but then Lady Harvelle threw an arm around her daughter’s neck and pulled her in for a tight hug. And whatever they were talking about didn’t seem to be that important after all.

Sam was already on his horse and King Gabriel stood by his side, holding his hand by the wrist like gentlemen did when greeting each other.

“Take care of yourself out there,” he told him, his voice barely remaining strong enough. “It would break my heart to lose you.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Sam said, letting go of his hand. It sounded like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t dare to when so many indiscreet ears and eyes were around.

A young Angelai boy approached Castiel, pulling the reins of a magnificent white stallion.

“Your Grace,” he said, bowing his head. “My name is Samandriel. I have been selected to be your squire for the duration of this campaign.”

“Thank you, Samandriel,” Castiel replied, with that smile that made people at ease around him. “And thank you for choosing such a great ride for me.”

“Your Grace is very kind, by I didn’t choose it,” Samandriel said, blushing a bit at the compliment. “I asked which horse was yours and I was told it was this one.”

“I chose it,” Meg intervened. “You’re a king, you have to look the part.”

Castiel smiled at her once more and kissed her hand. The had nothing left to say, nothing they hadn’t said the night before, and he knew Meg wouldn’t tolerate the same kind of displays they were seeing around the yard, but his lips still remained on her knuckles longer than usual. He then mounted on the horse with utmost grace and straightened his back.

“We’re ready, my queen,” he said, softly.

Meg stepped back to stand next to Gabriel in front of the troops. Silence fell as both the Angeli army and the Daemonai militia waited for their sovereigns to address them.

“Today you ride against an enemy that threatens both our kingdoms, an enemy so terrible it forced to put aside our centuries of differences,” she told them. “We were adversaries and now we’re allies, we were two and now we are one.”

“And you must remember this when you charge into that battlefield,” Gabriel continued, speaking more clearly and with more majesty than Meg expected from him. “The Leviathans threaten both our ways of lives and if we let them win, neither Angelia nor Daemonia will be safe for our children. So no matter which God you worship or what tales you tell before the fire, you must join your forces and emerge victorious from this trial.”

“May the goddess of war bless our side of the field!”

“And may God and his Messengers be ready to receive you with open arms if you fall!”

“Blessed be Angelia!” someone shouted. Meg couldn’t be sure, but she thought it could have been Dean Winchester.

“Long live Daemonia!” a female voice replied.

Both cries were repeated over and over through the troops until it became a cacophony of indistinctive shouting. Sam and Castiel raised their arms and directed their arms to turn towards the gate, the hooves of their horses shaking the ground like rolling thunders. Meg and Gabriel watched them leave and she wished that sound would travel miles and miles until Crowley’s ears, she wished it disturbed him in his sleep and she wished he woke up knowing his name would be called soon.

After the last foot soldier had left, Gabriel let out a deep, suffering sigh.

“If you excuse me, sister, I’m going to drink myself into a stupor.”

It wasn’t even the beginning of the morning, but Meg couldn’t say he blamed him. She would do the same thing, except alcohol was forbidden to her until after the child was born.

She wasn’t surprised to find Ruby right inside of the hall.

“Why you look so sad, my queen?” she asked. “Your husband is safe. He will come back to you, unlike many others.”

Meg let out a bitter laugh. If Ruby didn’t know already, then she wasn’t as good a Seer as she claimed to be. And if she did know, she was mocking her and she wasn’t going to tolerate it. With one short gesture, she reached inside her sleeve and pulled the blood vial they had enchanted together. The cork still remained in place and not a single drop had been let out of it.

“Take it back and get rid of it, witch,” she said, almost throwing at her hands. “And may this be the last time I come to you for advice as a wife and not a queen.”

She left her behind before Ruby could muster an answer. She climbed the stairs as fast as her condition allowed her to and reached the battlements just in time: the cloud of dust that was army was still visible in the distance. Castiel’s white stallion was a clear stain between all the browns, greys and blacks that rode with him.

She couldn’t be sure because of the distance, but she thought she saw him turn his head over her shoulder and look back at the castle. He must have. It was the kind of thing he would do.

Whatever the case, Meg thought, as she placed a hand over her belly, she would wait there for him and pray to the gods Ruby was wrong just this once.


	6. Chapter 6

The road to the Valley of Dragons was complicated to say the least. In the first place, they had departed the kingdom’s capital far too close to the beginning of the rain season. That meant they were accompanied by a near-incessant drizzle through the entire ordeal, batting on their heads and soaking their clothes and armor. Second, they had chosen to travel an old abandon path, which meant the stones that would protect a traveler’s boot from the mud and the water were cracked if not completely destroyed in certain parts. And third, they could never stop to rest for long. In fact, when Castiel looked back on those days, he couldn’t remember stopping at all. He slept on top of his horse, talked with his companions on top of his horse and ate on top of his horse.

Like Meg had said, they had received rations while they were still in the castle, but they nearly weren’t enough to feed the entire army. If it had been another type of marching, perhaps they could have stopped at an inn or at a village. But the few ones they had passed, following Meg’s orders, were completely deserted. The first one they found one was the worst: the army, that up until that point had been a cacophony of voices and laugher, fell completely silent when they entered the main street of the village. The houses were empty and their windows cold, the stables were a mess of dirty hay and rotten woods. Not a single living creature seemed to roam there, no abandoned dogs or cats, not even rats or frogs in the pools that formed from the rain dripping down the rooftops. The quietness was so unnerving that even the clacking of their horses or the creaking of the armors seemed to echo, amplified by a thousand.

Neither Castiel nor the Winchesters gave the order to stop. They could have, undoubtedly, stayed in the abandoned houses, search refuge for the night underneath the stables. But the atmosphere was far too eerie, so they continued down the road for a long while after the sun had disappeared and set out camp between the trees ahead of them.

“Can’t say the sightings are breathtaking, exactly,” Dean commented, as they gathered up around a small fire they had managed to light. “Honestly, Cas, how do you manage to live here at all? No wonder they call it hell.”

“It’s our home” Jo replied, apparently irritated by Dean’s dismissiveness.

“Well, sweetheart, sorry to tell you but your home needs a few improvements.”

Jo’s response was so fast no one had time to stop her: she stood up bow in hand and placed an arrow in the string.

“Jo, wait, there’s no need…” Castiel said, but it was too late: Jo released the arrow that ejected directly towards Dean… and passed over him barely grazing his hair. Dean let out a loud curse just as Jo abandoned the circle of light cast by the fire in long, energetic strides. There was some rummaging in the dark and before they could go see what she was doing, she returned dragging a large doe with her arrow sunken right in the head.

“I think we’ll have a good dinner for a couple of days, thank the gods,” she commented, satisfied. She took out a knife from her boot and started skinning the animal without another word.

“Holy shit,” Sam said, as both he and Dean stared at Jo with a mixture of fear and respect in their eyes.

Castiel could only laugh. He was glad to count on Jo’s company during the journey, because it was pretty obvious that the Angeli troops wanted nothing to do with the Daemonai militia. They camped apart and rarely were they seen riding close to one another. If they exchanged words, it was only for practical purposes like informing each other they were stopping or where they were tying their horses.

It was understandable, since both groups couldn’t have been more different: the first were soldiers and knights, trained for this kind of marching and for the fight they were about to face since they had been old enough to hold a wooden sword. They were organized in platoons, saluted when either Sam, Dean or Castiel walked past them and talked in short, precise sentences to inform their situation or what they needed.

Most of Daemonai knights and soldiers had left with Abaddon and Cain, so the ones accompanying them were the farmers and fishermen that Abaddon had been so indifferent to. It showed in how disorganized and loud they were with their jokes and sometimes their signing of popular songs with topics such as bedding maidens and drinking lots of ale. Some of them were burly and strong, carrying spears and swords with them, but most of them were so young Castiel felt awkward calling them men and thinking they could fall in front of a fearsome enemy before they had reached their prime. They looked inexperienced and sometimes downright uncomfortable holding swords, but some of them, Jo assured him, were just as good as she was with the bow.

“Some have to hunt to keep their families fed, so they learn to do it at an early age,” she explained to him. “They are glad they can put those abilities to the Queen’s service.”

“Are they glad to die for her?”

“Those brave ones who die under the watchful eyes of the goddess of war are granted a special place in the Beyond,” Jo replied, with a shrug. “And most of them hate Crowley. He only reigned for a few short months before Queen Meg stormed the castle and recovered the throne, but it was disastrous. He raised the taxes, he killed the noblemen who opposed him, he let pirates raid the shore towns without sending any help. We had a harsh winter that year and nobody is ready for a repeat. So they’re willing to do anything they can to prevent Crowley from destroying everything they hold dear.”

That made a lot of sense. Jo helped understand many things about the people he was supposed to reign over.

“I’m not really their sovereign,” Castiel said, blushing when Jo suggested he should talk to his subjects. “Meg is and I’m sure they understand, I’m just a vehicle for our alliance…”

“You’re here representing Meg,” Jo pointed out. “If she wasn’t with child, she would be right here. Granted, it’s likely she would stay back and organize our strategy, but still. She would be up to her ankles in the mud like the rest of us, sword in hand expecting the enemy.”

Castiel had to stop and ponder about that. That might have been the reason why some of the Daemonai soldier stared with contempt at the Angeli troops. They had seen their king, who was perfectly capable of standing on two legs and holding a sword, stay behind while they charged ahead into danger. They probably thought they all were cowardly and they didn’t understand that the true king, the king that could really hold his ground on a battle, was right there with them at that time.

“Did you ever see Meg brandish a sword?” Sam asked, apparently very interested in the conversation.

“No. I didn’t know she could do that.”

“Perhaps you don’t know your wife all that well then, my king,” Jo said, with a snicker. But she immediately recovered her serious tone as she added: “But I mean it. A king that can’t respect even the humblest of his subjects doesn’t deserve to be respected in return.”

That made an incredible amount of sense. That night he shared the fire with a group of men (and some women, of course) with callous hands and sunburned skins that revealed their lives plowing the fields or sailing in their fishing boats. At first they were a little stiff when Castiel sat by their side (with a reluctant Samandriel standing behind him), but when they passed around the bowls of deer stew and sat by the fire, they soon became the rowdy and noisy bunch they had been prior to that.

“What say you, Blondie?” a man with a patch in his eye said. “Will we have rain tomorrow?”

“Yesterday, tomorrow and later tonight, Cesar,” Jo said, shaking her head. “I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel dry anymore.”

They laughed out loud and offered Castiel to put more herbs in his stew. When he tried it again, it was so spicy that he had a coughing fit and they all laughed at him until tears rolled down their cheeks.

“It’s good to know that you’re a real person, my king,” Cesar commented, patting him in the back. “We had our doubts, with you sitting all pretty on Prince Tom’s horse.”

“Drink, please, your Grace,” Samandriel requested, putting the water skin in his hand. He seemed scared, as if the fact Castiel was choking was somehow his fault and he could be punished for it.

Castiel took two long gulps of it and tried to puff out a question:

“What do you mean… what do you mean Tom’s horse?” he asked, blinking away the tears to look at Cesar.

“No, no, you’re wrong,” a man with dark skin intervened. “That’s not the same horse. Prince Tom fell in the battlefield with it.”

“The gods damn you, Victor, it is the same damned horse.”

“I’m telling you, that horse died along with his rider. It took him away into the Beyond…”

“It’s… it’s too young,” Samandriel said. His voice was very quiet and it almost got drowned out in the heat of the argument, but all eyes turned on him all the same. Samandriel swallowed loudly and his face turned red, but he continued to speak: “The stallion is two years old at least. It couldn’t have been Prince Tom’s, because he wouldn’t have been trained for battle back when he died. Perhaps it’s a horse he sired?”

All the Daemonai went quiet for a second.

“And how would you know?” Cesar asked.

Samandriel looked at Castiel, as if he was waiting for permission to answer. Castiel nodded at him and Samandriel began stuttering painfully:

“Well, you see…. I was a stable boy before I joined the… I’ve worked with horses my whole life, and I had the honor to be… but yes, it’s a different horse,” he concluded, lowering his eyes to his shoes.

The Daemonai stared at him for a moment and then Victor burst into laughter.

“What did I tell you? The stable boy says I’m right!”

“Do you have a name, stable boy?” asked another of the men.

“Sa… Samandriel, my lord.”

“I ain’t a lord and I ain’t saying that. You Angeli and your damned long names,” the man complained. “We’re going to have to give you a war name, Stable Boy.”

“I say we call him Alfie,” Jo suggested. “The stable boy at my mother’s castle is called that.”

Samandriel was still beet red while the Daemonai howled their approval and started him calling him “Alfie”. But there was a smile on his lips for the following days.

“Your Grace, can I make you a request?” he said a few days later. Castiel gave him permission to keep speaking and Samandriel took a deep breath: “Well, you see, after the war is done, I would very much like to stay and serve you.”

“Don’t you have a family expecting you in Angelia?”

“My father and mother have several other children, my lord, and I getting a job away from them would be a mouth less to feed,” Samandriel explained. “My older brothers became knights for our lord and went to live in the castle, but I’m too short, you see.”

“Nonsense,” Jo intervened. “Anyone can learn how to fight, no matter their size.”

“You’re living proof of it, aren’t you?” Dean asked.

“Indeed, my lord,” Jo answered, sticking her chin up. “I will be glad to show it to you whenever you’re ready.”

“My wife gave a beautiful speech before we left about why you shouldn’t,” Castiel reminded them. “So please, don’t. Until we have defeated the Leviathans, at least.”

Jo and Dean both went quiet, though by the way the glared at each other, it was clear they weren’t exactly happy about it. Their bantering and bickering had been staple of the entire way. Castiel sometimes wondered if he could use his authority to get to stop talking altogether, but then again, he wasn’t sure how much they were going to respect that.

“And as for you, of course you’ll be welcome to stay, Samandriel,” he continued, turning to his squire. “It’d be nice to have someone from Angelia next to me for a change.”

“Maybe I could teach you to fight, if the queen allows me to stay in the castle after we came back,” Jo added.

“I don’t know why she wouldn’t. You’re such a delight to have around,” Dean started again. Castiel was beginning to suspect he only did it because annoying Jo was the only source of entertainment he had on the way.

Jo had another theory. She hurried up her horse and made him turn around on the path, effectively blocking Dean from going forwards. Her dark eyes glimmered with fury.

“I’m starting to believe, _my lord”–_ she imprinted such mocking tone in the last words that she managed to make them sound like an insult – “that you would much rather prefer it if I wasn’t here.”

Dean was momentarily taken aback by such directness, but in his defense, he recovered rather quickly.

“Well, I don’t know if I would prefer it, Lady Harvelle,” he replied. “But I definitely think it’s going to be distracting to have you in the battlefield if I have to cover your back.”

“You think I can’t defend myself in the heat of battle?”

“Jo, raise your bow,” Castiel said, ignoring the argument.

“With pleasure,” Jo said, taking an arrow for the carcass.

“And now point it the other way,” Castiel continued to instruct her. “There are riders ahead.”

Jo immediately turned around, the string tense as Sam ordered the troops to stop and stay vigilant. Both he and Dean had their hands on the hilt of their swords, ready to pull them out if they needed to… but when the first rider halted his horse and called out, it became obvious all those precautions weren’t necessary.

“It’s me, friends.” Benny pulled off his hood and raised his arms. Sam and Dean immediately relaxed their postures, but Jo didn’t.

“You could be an impostor,” she said. “Crowley’s magic is capable of such things.”

“I’m not an impostor,” the second rider intervened. He was wearing full body armor and when he took off his helmet, his grey curls fell at both sides of his head, dampened with sweat and rain.

“Sir Cain,” Castiel called out. He stretched a hand and gently made Jo lower her weapon. “Why are you here? We’re still three days away from our position.”

“I know this. I have let the army in the hands of Lady Abaddon because I have some urgent matters to discuss with you, my king.”

“And we better do it in private,” Benny added.

Castiel hesitated and looked at the horizon. It was growing dark pretty fast and he didn’t think they would get further that day anyway.

“Tell the troops to set out camp,” he ordered to Samandriel. “We need to hear about this.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel had taken a private tent for himself, but so far it had proven to be unnecessary to set it up. Both because it was a cumbersome to do so and because Jo had indicated the Daemonai would respect him more if he showed himself to be humble and slept on his cape like everyone else. Castiel had agreed with those reasons, and that was why he was certain the entirety of the army would know there was something amiss the minute they set the tent up.

But Sir Cain insisted that this discussion was a matter of urgency.

Samandriel brought refreshments for them (mostly cold deer soup) while they sat around the region’s map and Cain proceeded to explain to them what he needed to say. It had taken a couple of arguments to get to that point, because Cain wanted to speak with Castiel alone, but he refused to get rid of his companions.

“Dean is the leader of the Angeli army, Sam is here representing my brother, who is also a king, in case you forgot,” he said. “As for Lady Harvelle, her help has been invaluable and she will speak in name of the Daemonai militia.”

“You honor me, my king,” Jo said, showing her teeth in a smug grin directed at Dean.

Cain was clearly not happy with this arrangement, but he resigned and started pointing out the place in the map where he and Abaddon had set their troops and the projected trajectory of the Leviathan.

“We have been baiting them to move along the river bank. The goddess of rain has been on our part with this, for the flow has grown and made it impossible to cross unless it’s on this part. It will lead them directly to the mouth of the Valley.”

“So we got them exactly where we wanted them,” Dean said. “I don’t see how that is bad news.”

Cain looked at him with severity in his grey eyes.

“We got them there, but barely. We have been following a nonstop rhythm ever since we first left the capital. The short fights and retreating have left our troops exhausted. Not only that, but we’re at the edge of starvation. Many good horses had to be killed to feed the soldiers. One of them tried to eat the meat from one of the Leviathan corpses and…”

He clenched his jaw, as if he didn’t there to reveal the horror of what he had seen.

“What happened to that soldier?” Castiel demanded to know. He had to have all the facts. He needed to know what they were up against there.

“It maddened him,” Cain said. “We had to put him to the sword. It was an act of mercy. These… they’re not just mercenaries. I’m not sure they’re even men like you and I. Perhaps they were, once, but Crowley has done something to them. They’re beasts now. Their blood is black and our healer says it’s poisonous. They can be injured a thousand times without them falling. The only way to kill them is to cut their heads off or put an arrow through their skulls.”

“They’ve shown me their remains, perhaps thinking you wouldn’t take the knight’s words seriously,” Benny added. “They have three rows of teeth, like those of a shark. He tells the truth. This isn’t like any enemy that we have faced before.”

“The first time my men had to fight with them, half of them fell because they were too terrified to fight them,” Cain continued. “And another good part of them fell thanks to Crowley’s hounds.”

“I’ve heard of the hounds,” Jo said, lowering her voice as if talking about them too loudly would invoke them right there in their tent. “They’re greater in size than even a dire wolf. They say their eyes glow red and their muzzles are big enough to eat a person’s face. Crowley fed the people who opposed him to them when he seized the throne.” Her voice broke a little when she added: “He fed my father to them.”

A loud clatter interrupted the conversation. They all turned to see Samandriel in the corner of the tent.

“I’m so… I’m sorry, my king, I’m really sorry…” he said, nervously fumbling with the pieces of the clay jar he had dropped to the floor. “I didn’t mean to, I’m very sorry…”

“It was just a jar, Samandriel,” Castiel replied. It was hard to really care about or the spilled wine when Cain had brought them such a somber report. He rubbed his temples, tiredness and fear rising up in his stomach. But if he felt like that and he hadn’t face the Leviathans yet, he couldn’t imagine how Cain, Abaddon and the rest of the Daemonai must have been feeling. “It’s too late to change strategies now. We’re almost in position and another week of delay could prove fatal if Lady Abaddon can’t hold her ground.”

“I’m not saying we change it, your Grace,” Cain replied. “Merely that your men need to be prepared for what’s to come. Like this boy, they might hesitate and fail when the time comes. The Leviathans greatest weapon is the horror they cause and your troops need to be prepared to face it.”

“Then why you insisted to have this meeting in secrecy if you think they need to know about this?” Sam inquired.

“Because I don’t think they do,” Benny intervened. “You tell them we’re leading them into a bottleneck where they’ll have to face a group of monsters that will show them no mercy or chance to yield and they will panic. We cannot afford desertions right now.”

“Is it better if they desert while on the battlefield then?” Cain asked with a scoff.

“They won’t desert,” Jo said. She sounded offended that Benny would even suggest it. “The King’s Militia will fight to the last man or woman standing and if the Angeli won’t do the same, then they don’t deserve to be called men at all.”

“Who told you we won’t do the same?” Dean sounded angrier than Castiel had counted on him to be. “Not a single one of our soldiers will turn their backs and if they do even before we reach the battlefield, they’ll be punished. It’s King Gabriel’s law. If they face the Leviathans they might die, but if they flee they will die for sure.”

“They need to at least have a chance of survival for that threat to work,” Sam added.

“Which is why I am here,” Cain said. “I will teach them what we have learned fighting these monsters. They need to know they’re not unbeatable. They need to learn that when their head is cut, their body falters…”

“What did you say?” Castiel asked, rising his head.

The knight looked at him blinking.

“When the head is cut, the body falters,” he repeated.

Castiel tasted those word in his mouth and looked down at the map, an idea slowly rising in his head.

“Sir Cain, I think you might have just given us the key to win this war.”

 

* * *

 

Benny left the tent an hour later with a fresh horse and some deer meat for the way. There was still a rictus of skepticism in his lips, but Castiel knew that he would follow his orders to the letter and deliver his news to Abaddon’s army with his usual swiftness. And if he was captured, Castiel knew he would open the vial of poison he kept hidden in his clothes and consume it just as quickly, killing himself in a matter of minutes. The information he carried was far too valuable to risk it falling in the wrong hands and the Leviathans surely weren’t above horrific tortures.

“In any case, I’ll see you on the battlefield or at God’s Gates,” Benny said before leaving. “Good ride, my friends.”

Castiel didn’t know which of those options was worse, but those were the only ones now. Sam, Dean, Cain, Jo and him had other things to do, like talk to each and every one of the platoons and made sure every single soldier was informed of the risks ahead and what they needed to do if they found themselves face to face with a Leviathan. They spent the night dividing up the camp so they made sure the news reached every part of it.

The Daemonai militia seemed unperturbed by the news. They seemed to take it as a challenge more than anything.

“If I put my spear through them eyes, will that do the trick?” Cesar asked.

“I reckon it might,” Cain said. There was a smirk between his grey, thick beard and it was the first time Castiel actually saw him smile since that time at the castle when he and Meg had conspired to convince the Council to go with her plan.

He looked less at ease with the Angeli.

“Headshots and decapitations,” Inias, the sergeant of one of the platoons, said. “I will instruct my men to follow those instructions, your Grace. Fear not.”

“No, I think we should fear,” Cain replied, gritting his teeth. “You don’t seem to be getting how dangerous the enemy is.”

“I understand their leader has dabbled with black magic, sir,” Inias replied, calmly, though the contempt in his voice was undeniable. “We’re not afraid. Our steel has been blessed by a priest of the Lord and it will cut through them with ease.”

“Your arrogance will be the death of all your men, you foolish…”

“I think you’ve understood the gravity of the situation, sergeant,” Castiel intervened before Cain could say anything else. “Thank you and please make sure all your men are privy to this information.”

Inias saluted and turned around to walk away.

“Please, do not insult the Angeli, Sir Cain,” Castiel sighed as they moved on to another part of the camp. “They might not show it, but they are very likely to remember it in the future.”

“You speak of them as if they weren’t your people,” Cain pointed out.

“They are and they always will be. But since the moment I married Meg, I don’t think it can be said I belong to them.”

An awkward silence fell between the two men when her name was mentioned. Castiel couldn’t forget Ruby’s warning about Cain’s dislike for him and Meg’s bitter tears after his brief stay at the castle. And he also couldn’t help but to notice the way his features softened and his voice became quieter when he asked:

“How is my queen?”

Castiel ignored the knot of jealousy in his guts by reminding himself that it was an honorific treatment and many people called Meg “their queen”.

“My wife is quite well, thank you,” he replied, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray what he really thought. “As well as she can be when there’s war at her door and she’s expecting the arrival of our child within the next moon.”

Cain twisted his mouth. Of course he must have heard of Meg’s pregnancy (how could he not?) but it was as if Castiel’s reminder definitely rubbed some salt in that wound. Castiel considered gushing about how excited he was and how beautiful Meg looked and how many more children he wanted them to have when the war was over. Then decided a king should be at least slightly above that pettiness.

“She’s been helping the refugees that fled to the capital and coordinating our forces. I know for a fact she will sleep better at night when all of this is over.”

“We all will, my king,” Cain said through gritted teeth. “But why isn’t she resting? With a child on the way, it’s not good for her to be overexerting herself like that.”

Castiel had to bite back a smile. He had tried in many occasions to tell Meg she should rest and all he had got for it was a lot of attitude.

“The man or woman who can get Megan of the Daemonai to do something against her will has not been born yet,” he replied, with a shrug. “As you should well know.”

He thought he saw another smirk on Cain’s face, but it disappeared so fast he couldn’t be sure.

Jo was waiting for them outside of the tent, sharpening her arrows. She stood up and bowed briefly when she saw them coming.

“I’ve done as you’ve instructed me, my king,” she informed him. “They’re waiting inside for you.”

The space inside the tent had reduced greatly, or maybe it was an effect of having twenty people standing around and how they all tried to bow when Castiel walked in. He glanced at them, trying to find out the reasons Jo may have picked them. There were some Daemonai with spears and bows and Angeli foot soldiers with swords hanging from their belts. They were standing as far away as they could and eyeing each other with suspicion. That wasn’t a good sign, but he hoped that by the end of the interview they could come to understand the importance of unity.

“Thank you all for being here,” he began. “As I’m sure Jo… Lady Harvelle has explained to you, I am looking for volunteers to help me out on a mission during the battle. It will be… dangerous. Certainly deadly for some of us.”

“How about you tell us what the fuss is about and then we tell you if we want in or not?” Victor said and quickly added: “My king.”

Castiel figured that was fair. It didn’t take too long to explain his plan, but as he spoke, he noticed the warrior’s eyes widening, some of them shifting uncomfortably in their places. He expected those reactions from the Daemonai who had encountered Crowley’s hands personally or, like Jo, had suffered a personal loss because of them. But even the Angeli knights looked between unconvinced and openly terrified.

“Your Grace, what you propose is…”

“I know exactly what it is that I’m asking you to do, Ishim,” Castiel interrupted him before the warrior could continue. “Which is why I will not blame any of you for leaving this tent if you wish not to partake in it.”

A stunned silence followed them. Of course, Castiel could just order them to do it. The Daemoni had no choice: he was his king, he was there in representation of Meg and they couldn’t refuse if he told them to. The Angeli could go to Sam and Dean, but in something as delicate as this, everybody had to be aware that the leaders of the army would all be in agreement.

But he knew he was just asking too much of them. Even those who were willing to die wouldn’t wish a death like the one he was proposing.

And yet, none of them walked away. Some of them shifted on their feet, as if they were considering doing so, but then Jo stood up and said:

“I will follow you, my king. To the very end of this endeavor.”

And Castiel supposed that if a tiny girl with a flimsy bow was brave enough to volunteer for this, the seasoned warriors around her would have been ashamed to refuse. One by one, they all echoed Jo’s sentiment: they would follow him, they would cover his back. They would make sure he could accomplish this feat to the very end.

“It won’t be just my feat,” Castiel told them, humbled by the trust he saw in their faces. “It will belong to all of us. The person who manages to make the kill won’t be lesser than the one who covers their back. And it certainly won’t be received with less honors at the Gates or in the Beyond if we fall. Your bravery speaks highly of you and I couldn’t ask for a better group of men and women by my side.”

“Blessed be Angelia!”

“Long live Daemonia!”

Castiel tried to smile and join in on the cheering and the applause that follow. But he couldn’t help the churning in his stomach any more that he could help any of these brave souls should the god of death decide to call their names.


	7. Chapter 7

The days in the castle following the army's departure were calmer. Far too calm for Meg’s taste. She found herself almost wishing that a crisis of some sort would arise so she could keep her mind occupied with that. Instead, all she could really do was look at the horizon, at the direction when she knew that a storm was brewing and wait for it to pass or start once and for all.

It didn’t help that her daughter had become so heavy Meg could barely move. Her back ached whenever she tried to stand up and climbing up and down the stairs was an almost impossible feature now. So Ruby brought her food and watered down wine to her chambers and informed her of the daily occurrences in the castle.

“Gil is in the talks with some of the Angeli priests. They want to construct a church in the city and educate people about their religion of the One God.”

“Oh, no, that is unacceptable,” Meg said, shaking her head. “It will anger the common folk if they think they’re trying to stop them from respecting the old ways. I might have to call him up here and tell him to stop it right now.”

“Is my queen sure that is the best way to proceed?” Ruby asked, tilting her head. Meg knew that meant she was probably going to tell her what she needed to do, but by framing as a question, Ruby was giving her the illusion she had a choice in that matter. “Since we are now allies of the Angeli, it is likely that we’ll have a lot of travelers from their kingdom coming into ours. They will need a place to worship too.”

Meg gritted her teeth. As usual, the Seer brought up a more than valid point.

“Why do they need an entire building to worship their god anyway?” she asked, with a groan. “Why can they worship him in the woods or at the shore like we do? And do you think our gods will be happy about this?”

“Our gods aren’t jealous like theirs is,” Ruby pointed out. “As long as you make it a law that the new religion is not permitted to uproot the old one, perhaps we can get the both of them to coexist for a time.”

“For a time?” Meg repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“The world is changing, my queen. Slowly but surely,” Ruby said. Her face became somber as she added: “Soon our gods may not have a place in it.”

“Nonsense. Our gods are as constant as Father Sun’s shine and Mother Moon’s phases,” Meg snapped. “As long as the winds blow and the ocean’s waves crash against our cliff and people are born and die, no one will forget to worship them.”

Ruby’s silence was unnerving. Meg didn’t want to ask what forking path she was looking into at that very moment.

“Very well. If you say we need to make accommodations for the Angeli, we will,” Meg said. “But they will have to make some accommodations for us too.”

It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. But then again, nothing seemed to be those days.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Gabriel said, shaking his head when Meg told him what she wanted from him in exchange for letting the priests build their house of worship. “It’s just not done, sister, I’m sorry. If you want a child of yours and Castiel to sit on my throne, you will have to have a boy.”

Meg’s entrails twisted at that affirmation. Not just because Castiel had warned her that would be his brother’s exact reply, but because it might not even be possible. Some nights, while she laid alone and wide awake on her empty bed, she was tempted to search for Ruby and asked her if she really had got rid of the vial like she had asked her to do. And if there was no way to use its magic now that Castiel was far away. She thought over and over again about that last night they had spent together, about their words and their gestures.

Castiel had told her he loved her.

She had begged him to come back.

Had she told him she loved him? Sometimes she was sure she had, sometimes she was so desperate to believe she had that she could fool herself about it. But the pale dawn wouldn’t let her lie to herself.

She hadn’t said the words, but she was sure that he must have known them. He must have. He should be in the battlefield right now, marching on despite the rain and the difficulties, knowing she loved him.

Even if she hadn’t been brave enough to say the words like he had.

Because she knew she would lose him. And if she’d admitted out loud she loved him, it would have made everything a hundred times more difficult.

But she couldn’t think about the past. She had to focus on the future, for her and for Selene. She watched Gabriel down his mead with enthusiasm and tried another tactic.

“Why is it that your priests deny women their fair place by your side?” she asked. “Why do they hate us?”

“They don’t hate you,” Gabriel replied, with a shrug. “They’re just convinced you’re the root of all sin. Which is a great lack of imagination on their part, if you ask me. I’ve been perfectly capable of sinning all of these years without a woman’s help.”

He must have been half-drunk by then. Meg had discovered, from dining with him almost every night; that the King of Angelia’s good humor was but a mask he wore to conceal his desperation. Gabriel was perfectly capable of jesting and keeping a cheerful spirit even in the face of their difficult situation. But the more alcohol he poured into his chalice, the bleaker his mood became and the more forced his laughter was. It was clear that he wished to have nothing to do with the responsibilities of ruling and that he missed his lover as dearly as Meg missed Castiel.

It was easy to empathize with him, even when his kingdom’s uses were so infuriating to her.

“With the proper education, she might be a queen as good as any man of your kingdom,” Meg pointed out, but Gabriel kept shaking his head.

“Maybe. If she is half as smart as you are and half as kind as Castiel, then of course she’ll be suited to rule Daemonia. But the Angeli people will never accept a…”

He interrupted himself and took another gulp of his chalice. Meg glared at him, annoyed by his insinuation.

“A what?” she urged him. “A woman? Or a Daemonai? Do I have to remind you, brother, that was the entire purpose of this allegiance? To erase the differences between your people and mine?”

“Yes, well, you ignore the fact those differences won’t be as easy to erase as you and me would like them to be,” Gabriel said with a shrug. He reached out for the jar, but Meg pulled it away from his hand. “Oh, come on…”

“You’re right. It won’t be easy, but it will be a thousand times more difficult if you refuse to lead by example,” Meg said. “If the common people see you rejecting your niece because she is half Daemonai, then they will believe that’s what’s expected of them as well. You’re their king. They look up to you.”

“You have spent too much time with Castiel,” Gabriel complained. “You even sound like him. _‘You’re the king, Gabriel, you need to act as such’_. Well, just because I wear the crown doesn’t mean I’m the king. It just means I’m the fool who happened to be next in line.”

He snatched the jar from Meg’s hand and filled his chalice again. She watched him in silence, rage boiling in her veins.

“The only thing more pathetic than your self-pity is your apathy,” she told him, not caring if her words could be considered offensive or not. “You have a modicum of power, a comfortable life most of your people could never even dream about and all you do is complain about what a burden it is to care for their struggles. You disgust me and maybe it is a good thing my daughter won’t be your heir. Maybe if she learnt the ways of Angelia, she would end up a ruler as selfish and incompetent as you.”

“That is not fair!” Gabriel started to protest, but Meg didn’t care to listen to him anymore. She stood up and opened her mouth to dismiss him…

… a sharp intense pain went down her back. As if somebody had stabbed her heart and was sliding the blade along her spine.

Fear flooded her mind, fear that it would be a premonition, that the battle had started and she had just experience the last second of her husband’s life.

Then she realized there was wetness between her legs and a different kind of fear took over her.

“No,” she muttered, putting her hands over her belly. “No, it’s too soon. Selene, you still have another moon…”

“What is it?” Gabriel asked, standing up and swaying on his feet slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Meg looked up at him as another wave of pain shot through her and Gabriel paled, sobering up all of the sudden.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. He ran up to her and grabbed her by the arm. “Shit, shit, shit. What do I do?”

“Help me to my bed,” Meg indicated. “And call for Ruby and Tessa.”

“Ruby and Tessa. Yes,” Gabriel muttered as he helped her sit down on the mattress. “Okay. I will bring them… you’re sure you want me to leave you alone?”

“Just bring them here!”

Gabriel fled from the room and only when she was alone Meg allowed herself to cry out in pain. She tried to breathe in and out like Tessa had recommended, but her lungs burned and her clothes clung unto her skin, damp with sweat, making her feel like she was suffocating.

“Oh, Mother Moon, protect us,” she begged, even though the night was dark with clouds and she couldn’t see the face of her goddess. “Protect us both, please. Protect my daughter.”

Ruby burst into the room, her long dark cloak floating behind her. There were pine needles in her hair and mud in her clothes and when she knelt on the bed next to Meg, a scent of humid earth invaded the queen’s nostrils. She must have been out, performing some of those mysterious rituals not even Meg was allowed to participate in. Surley, she'd had a vision of some sort if she had come back so fast.

And as she placed her hands on Meg’s cheeks and stared down at her, Meg saw something in her face that scared her more than any premonition. She saw confusion and even a little bit of fear.

“This shouldn’t be happening. It’s too soon,” Ruby muttered. “I’m sorry, my queen. I don’t know…”

“If your words aren’t going to help me, then say nothing at all!” Meg snapped. The last thing she needed right then, scared and in pain as she was, was for her Seer to be hesitant. “Bring me Tessa and start preparing to receive your princess!”

The door opened once more and Tessa and Casey walked in, followed by a very agitated Gabriel that almost staggered as he went inside.

“How long ago was the last wave of pain?” Tessa asked, immediately walking towards the bed and grabbing Meg’s wrist to check her pulse.

“I wasn’t counting,” Meg admitted, annoyed. Did she really expected her to pay attention to that sort of thing?

“I’m going to need to lift up your dress, my queen,” Tessa announced. She looked over her shoulder and seemed surprise to see that Gabriel was still there, looking confused and slightly terrified. “Get him out of here. I’m going to need hot water and some rags.”

Casey almost shoved Gabriel out of the room and Ruby followed them suit to look for what Tessa had asked. The healer turned her attention back to Meg and placed a hand on her face. Unlike Ruby, she seemed strangely calm.

“It happens sometimes that the birth comes a few weeks earlier. Sometimes even moons earlier,” she told Meg. “You have nothing to fear. Both you and the princess will be fine.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Theresa of the Reapers,” Meg said. She was well aware her eyes must have gone black, because the healer gulped and changed her tune:

“I will do everything in my power.”

And that Meg could believe.

 

* * *

 

There was a strange sense of calm the night before the battle.

There were no fires that night, no singing and only whispered conversations. Some Angeli had even gone so far as to pad their horses’ hooves. The entirety of the allied army had to be concealed under the cloak of darkness in case the Leviathans were close. The strategy wouldn’t work unless they counted with the element of surprise. Crowley and his monsters had to believe they had chased Abaddon and Cain to the Valley to make one last desperate stand with no expectations of help.

And when Crowley came, the Angeli would attack their rearguard, trapping them like the pincers of a spider trapped a bug. It was a simple but brilliant plan, but it wouldn’t work unless Castiel and his score of volunteers fulfilled their mission. So many things hanged in the balance without a plan to fall back on and it made Jo uneasy.

She had many reasons to be uneasy that night.

“Your loyalty is commendable, Lady Harvelle,” Sir Cain had told her earlier that day, when they’d stopped for refreshments. “It seems you have taken quite a liking to our new king.”

Jo had hoped she wasn’t blushing. She’d continued skinning the deer she had hunted so she could begin cutting some pieces for herself before taking the rest back to the camp to share with the militia. It was the last warm meal they would share, because they knew they needed to be invisible once the night fell.

“He’s a smart, compassionate man,” Jo had replied when it became obvious the knight was still expecting an answer from her. “I’m glad to serve by his side and yes, he has my loyalty and admiration. Is there anything wrong with that, sir?”

“Not at all,” Cain had said. He’d mad a long pause before he’d added: “And it’s clear too that you have his trust. Otherwise, why would he keep you so close at all times?”

Jo had stood up at that point. Her hands had been covered with blood and gore and she was still gripping her hunting knife. She knew Sir Cain’s fame and what a great knight he has, so even disarmed he probably was a worthy opponent.

But she’d reigned in her temperament, as her mother had recommended her to do many times. Perhaps Sir Cain hadn’t insinuated what she’d thought he was insinuating and she would give herself away by reacting so violently.

“I have proven my usefulness to him many times and he appreciates my abilities. Yes, I’m proud to say the king trusts me because I’ve done my best to earn it and I will continue to do so tomorrow when we enter the battlefield.”

Cain had pulled from one of his curls, pensive and quiet.

“And you may fall in it, too. So, tonight may be your last chance to tell him,” he’d commented. “About how much you… admire him.”

Jo had blushed again, because it definitely sounded like he knew what she felt was just a little more than admiration. He knew why she kept so close to the king and why she was always so happy to lend his services to him. She thought she wasn’t being that obvious. But it was clear she was wrong.

“That’s entirely inappropriate, sir, and I hope you never say anything of the sort to me again.”

“Forgive me if I have offended you, my lady,” Sir Cain had replied, lowering his eyes. He’d looked contrite and Jo had hoped that would be the end of their conversastion, but then he continued: “I was merely pointing out that you’re an extremely young and beautiful maiden. It’s impossible for any man not to notice. And the king has been away from his wife, who was well into her pregnancy when he left her…”

“What’s that have to do with anything?” she’d asked, a hairbreadth away from completely losing her patience at Cain’s insinuations and whispers. “Has the king said anything to you?”

“No, of course not. He would never confide in me the way he does in you. But you need to keep in mind his marriage to our queen was a matter of convenience. Now the war is coming to an end and there’s an heir on the way, well… I doubt they even share a bed anymore.”

“Are you a knight or a gossiping old witch?” Jo had asked, arching an eyebrow towards him. But she couldn’t help the tug in her chest. It was as if Cain was spelling out for her all the things she’d suspected of Meg and Castiel’s marriage but that she would never dare say out loud in fear she was disrespecting her rulers.

“I’m just saying that we never know who might be in the god of death’s list.” Cain had shrugged. “I have seen many battles, lost many good friends and been hurt in ways I thought meant my demise for sure. Take it from me: you don’t want to carry your regrets with you tomorrow. They’ll weight down on you.”

He’d left her alone to her prey then, but his words had been running on Jo’s head since.

Because they made too much sense. The king was very gentle and proper, always serious and frowning. It might have been an effect of the heavy duty he had in front of him, but given how often Lord Winchester joked about how Castiel needed to “lighten up”, perhaps it was just his usual demeanor. He and the Winchester brothers were old friends, so they had a different kind of familiarity in their treatment.

It wasn’t unusual for a nobleman to have a mistress, particularly if their marriage was a loveless one, as if happened so often. She knew King Azazel had them, before and after his queen’s passing. Prince Tom had bedded one of her close friends, Pamela, and promised he would take her to the castle before he was slayed in battle.

It followed that if the king was always so earnest and unfamiliar with the uses of Daemonia, as he was, he wouldn’t know how to request woman to be his mistress. And perhaps Sir Cain was right in his assessment that he had been getting closer to Jo all that time because there was some sort of interest in his part. Or maybe that was her own wishful thinking because she wanted to be closer to her king still.

There was, however, one thing sir Cain was undoubtedly right about: that night was her last chance to find out.

She finished her dinner and waited until the rest of the militia laid down to sleep. She knew only a few of them would even sleep that night. She was wide awake and nervous, her hands trembling and her feet almost staggering when she left the rest and sauntered into the royal tent.

Inside there was light, but the fabric of its "walls" was so thick that it didn't matter. Castiel, Cain and the Winchesters were hunched over a map, perhaps reviewing the battle plan for the hundredth time.

"God willing, we will meet you here," Dean said, pointing at a spot on the map.

"We'll bring Crowley's head as a present for Queen Meg," Cain replied, with a too far calm tone for what he was saying. "She will like to have it on the battlements for the next fool who thinks about stealing the crown for themselves."

Castiel cast him a silent glare, but said nothing.

"Jo... Lady Harvelle," he called when he saw her. "Is there anything you need?"

Jo almost blushed again. She wished she didn't have to do this in the presence of the three other men, but she wasn't going to back down now.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, my king," she said, with a quick bow. "I'd like to request an audience with you."

"Yes, of course. Anything you need to say..."

"Alone," Jo added, bluntly.

The brothers exchanged a look and a shrug, but they rolled up the map and turned to give Castiel a quick hug. It was unlikely that they would see each other until the battle was over, so of course that was the only silent goodbye they could exchange. They left followed by Cain, who threw a glance at her and then, deliberately, untied the bow that kept the tent's door open and let it fall.

So now Jo and the king were completely alone and isolated from prying eyes. Perhaps not safe from pryvying ears, but Jo couldn't bring herself to care. If she was going to be the royal consort, she needed to learn to deal with scorn and gossipping. She had a skin thick enough for it.

And if she died the following day, then it wouldn't matter in the Beyond.

"What was it that you needed?" Castiel asked, tilting his head as if he was curious.

Jo saw the jar of wine in a small table to the side and moved towards it to pour it into the chalices. She took a sip of hers to steady her nerves before taking the other to Castiel. The king took it and with a kind smile, he toasted with her.

"Tomorrow we'll be shedding blood together," she said. "Or maybe it'll be our blood that'll be shed."

"Yes," Castiel replied. "Are you nervous about it? I know this is your very first battle, but I trust that you will perform perfectly in it."

The stark contrast between that affirmation and how Dean Winchester had been complaining about "having to watch her back" was startling to Jo. Perhaps Castiel had learned a thing or two about Daemonia after all. Or perhaps he was just a better man than his friend.

"It's not my abilities I doubt," she said. "But even the best can bested. It'd be arrogant to think otherwise."

Castiel nodded without a word and took the chalice to his lips, obviously still waiting for her to finish her thought. Jo took a deep breath and tried to lighten up her tone with a smile when she added:

"And if the god of death calls my name tomorrow, I will die a maiden."

Castiel choked on his drink and coughed for a moment, before raising his now watery eyes towards her.

"I, uh... I'm..." he stuttered, clearly at lost for words.

"It would be a shame, wouldn't it?" she commented, still trying to smile despite the knot her stomach had become. "To die without knowing the touch of a man."

"Well, it's... Why? I don't..."

"My father wanted to find me a suitable husband when I came of age two years ago," Jo continued, taking a step towards him. "But then Crowley killed him for refusing to bend the knee in front of a usurper. And well, times have been agitated ever since."

"I... I understand that," Castiel said, his gruff voice sounding even deeper as he tried to clear his throat. "I'm sure you will meet a suitor that'll catch your eye when we go back. You're young, you're very beautiful. You won't have a problem finding a husband."

If it was a compliment, it was certainly an odd one. Then again, perhaps he was trying to keep things proper by saying all those things she didn't care to think.

"See, that's the thing, my king." Jo took another step, so now they were so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "What if I don't come back at all?"

Castiel swallowed loudly, his apple bobbing up and down. Jo stood on the tip of her toes, throwing her head back a little to look up at him, her lips parted expectantly.

"Jo... this is extremely inappropriate."

"Well, you're the king," Jo pointed out. "You could order me to go away."

Castiel said nothing, his blue eyes glistening as they stare at her. Emboldened, Jo left the chalice aside and put an arm around his neck. She stood on the tip of her toes, her lips of the cusp of brushing against his…

"Go, then. Please."

Jo froze and moved away to observe him. He glanced away, both arms hanging by his said, limp. It was clear he didn't want to push her away, but he wasn't responding to her either.

"I... I don't understand," she muttered.

"What's there to understand?" Castiel asked. He was frowning again when he looked at her. "I'm married. To your queen."

Confusion and shame rose in Jo's face and put a lump in her throat. She covered her mouth with both her hands, perhaps to stifle a cry.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said. "I don't know what I did or said to make you think this was something that I would want. It certainly wasn't my intention and I apologize if I disrespected you in any way..."

"Disrespect me?" Jo repeated, her voice pitch rising because now, on top of all the other things she was feeling, she wanted to start laughing hysterically. "You didn't... I was the one who should be apologizing to you!" She covered her eyes with her hands. "I'm so embarrassed."

He gently grabbed her hands and pushed them away. Jo wanted to keep staring at her shoes (in fact, she was praying to the goddess of earth to open a hole underneath her feet and swallow her), but if she couldn't even face her king, how did she expect to face the Leviathan in the morning?

Although, she thought as she looked him in the eye again, right then she would rather battle alone against the monsters and her father's killer over having to confront her own stupidity.

"You're young. Death's closeness makes us do foolish things," he said, giving her a lot more leeway to justify her actions than she actually deserved. "I won't hold this against you, Jo, and I won't tell anybody what was discussed here. I... would really regret it if our friendship suffered because of this."

"Of course not," Jo said, shaking her head. "No, I'm sorry. I guess it was... I didn't really think... I apologize again, my king."

"I've already accepted it," he said, with a soft smirk.

Jo breathed out. She still wanted to be anywhere but there, but it was a relief to know that Castiel didn't think less of her for all of this.

"Thank you," she muttered.

"Please. Let's not even mention it again."

He turned away and gulped down his wine. Jo bit back a laughter. If she was ashamed, she couldn't even imagine what he was feeling. After all, she didn't have a spouse to remain faithful to.

"You really do love her, don't you?" she asked. "Queen Meg."

"Yes." He smiled and his features softened even further. "There hasn't been and there won't be anyone but her, from the moment I saw her until death calls my name."

"That's a Daemoni expression," Jo laughed.

“Perhaps I am learning to be part of your people after all.”

They stayed in silence for another moment. There really was nothing left to say.

"I will... leave you to rest now, my king," she said, clumsily.

"Yes, of course. I will see you in the morning, Lady Harvelle."

Jo left the tent, walked away a few steps and leaned against the nearest tree. Her heart was still pounding hard in her chest and the heat in her face hadn't disappeared. But after a few minutes of kicking herself mentally, she realized something. Yes, most of the blame for the shameful way that she'd acted was hers. But she would never had dared go beyond what was appropriate had someone not encouraged her to.

She laid underneath the stars fully awake for another while. She could hear some sighs and grunts in the distance, indicating that some of the other soldiers had a lot more luck than she did. After a while, the camp went silent, and finally, she could close her eyes.

Someone shook her shoulder what felt like only moments afterwards, but it must have been hours. There was the tiniest hint of light in the horizon and some men were already passing around the jerky and water cups they would have for breakfast that morning, all in complete silence or long whispered conversations. She accepted some water from Victor and stood up to stretch her arms and look for her horse.

Just the person she was expecting to see was also readying up his horse.

"Lady Harvelle," Sir Cain greeted her with a smile. "Did you have a good night?"

"Oh, I barely rested," Jo said, hoping the sharpness of her words reached him despite the low volume. "I spent it remembering how I made myself a fool in front of three people."

"Well, you don't have to worry about my opinion of you. And as for the Winchesters…"

"I made a fool of myself in front of my king, my commander and my friend," Jo interrupted him. "And I guess I have you to thank for that, sir."

Cain’s smile disappeared.

“He… he rejected you?”

“You seemed disappointed by that outcome,” Jo scoffed. “But yes, indeed he did. Now I ask you, did you put me up as some sort of faithfulness trial for our dear king?”

Cain didn’t answer, but the way his mouth tensed indicated Jo she had hit the nail in the head.

“Well, sir, I really hope we survive this day, then,” she said. “So we can tell first hand to Queen Meg how much his husband loves her.”

She finished saddling up her horse and mounted without sparing another look for the knight. She moved past the reading militia until she was at the head of the platoons, with Castiel and the Winchesters. As much as she disliked Lord Dean, she at least had to admit he was open and honest about everything. That day, for example, he greeted her with a boisterous:

“Good day, my lady. I would’ve preferred to see the sun for my last day on earth, but I guess the lovely weather of your country will deny me that mercy.”

Jo looked at the horizon. There were clouds amassing towards the east, in the capital’s direction. Perhaps they would be lucky and the ocean would gobble up the storm before it reached the land, if the gods of the wind and the sea were on their side.

The king was also looking towards the east and Jo couldn’t help but to wonder if he was thinking about his wife and his unborn child.

But immediately he shook his head and looked ahead.

“Let’s move,” he ordered in a whisper that nevertheless seemed to boom across the men. “Abaddon is waiting for us.”

 

* * *

 

 

The sun rose behind a wall of black clouds, so it did very little to light up the room. Meg could barely bring herself to pay attention. The pain had got worse with the hours and it didn’t matter how much she bit into the leather belt her coven had given her or how hard she squeezed the hands holding hers, it fogged her mind every time. Her sweaty hair fell over her forehead, and her entire body felt damp and limp, even though Casey and Lilith did whatever they could to dry her up with cloths and pour fresh water over her head.

Tessa kept checking between her legs, counted under her breath between the waves of pain and clicked her tongue in frustration. But in the hours before the dawn, her expression had become more and more serene to the point that by the time the rainy day arrived, she dared to even crack a smile.

“She’s coming, my queen,” she informed Meg. “I can see her head. It’s time.”

Meg had no idea how she was going to stand for this, but she clung unto Lilith and Casey’s arms and they slowly inched her to the side of the bed. Her legs were trembling and weak when she set them down on the cold stone floor, but her coven sisters held her by the waist to prevent her from falling. She bent her knees and took a deep breath as another wave shot through her. It felt like her body was splitting up and she screamed into the belt until her lungs were empty.

“I need you to push, my queen,” Tessa instructed, as she and Ruby knelt in front of her with towels and cloths ready for the princess. “Spread your legs further and push down with the next wave.”

Meg threw her head back, her eyes closed and a silent prayer on her mind.

A lightning flashed across the window.

The queen’s next muffled scream came accompanied by roaring thunder.

 

* * *

 

They weren’t in position yet.

That was the first panicked thought that crossed Jo’s mind.

The trumpet, Abaddon’s signal, pierced the air and they weren’t in position. If they’d had another moment, just a fraction of a moment, they would have reached the place they were supposed to, but the signal came in too soon and then repeated itself a second time with insistent despair.

“Hurry!” Castiel instructed to his score of volunteers and sank his heels in his stallion’s side to lead by example.

And even as she whipped her horse to go forwards, Jo couldn’t help but to look over her shoulder.

Both Sam and Dean Winchester had raised their swords in the air.

“Blessed be Angelia!” they screamed in the distance.

The entirety of the army and the part of the militia that hadn’t accompanied them lunged themselves down the mountain side. The clatter of their horses’ hooves against the rock invaded the air along with their battle cries. Now Crowley and the Leviathans would see them coming for sure. They had lost the element of surprise.

But maybe that was a good thing. The enemy would think that the entirety of the reinforcements was coming down at them from that side of the gorge and wouldn’t bother to look up and find them. They could still have a chance to execute Castiel’s plans.

At least, she really hoped so.

Castiel and Cain halted their horses and so did she. She was about to ask why they’d stopped, when the answer made itself clear as day. Someone behind her let out a profanity and another person muttered: “Lord protect us”.

Wild howling and maddened, rough roars of barely human throats reached their ears. From the other side of the valley, the enemy poured in numbers greater than they’d thought, like a black undertow ready to cover their land and drown them in blood.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a massacre.

There was no other way to describe it and Castiel would have to be heartless or a fool to not realize it. The din of weapons clashing against each other, the agonizing screams of men as they fell, the barking and howling… he was spared none of those horrifying sounds as he and his volunteers rode along the mountain’s path. He could have turned his gaze away and saved himself the horrible sights of heads rolling and limbs falling, of hounds swarming on a knight and knocking him off the horse to feast on him, of black, oozing blood pouring from the Leviathans’ wounds and staining the already muddied battlefield. But he would have been a coward to do that. He needed to see. He needed to understand how these brave men and women were dying just for their gods, for their children. For his child.

And he also had to look for the man they were hunting. They had to find him and put an end to it all before the armies lost their ground.

In the end, it was Jo who spotted him.

“There he is! Among the hounds!”

He was wearing a black armor with what seemed to be a red cross on the chest. It was easy to tell it was him, because in his arrogance, he hadn’t even attempted to blend in with the death and chaos around him. He didn’t have his sword out, only a black staff with a red jewel on top. He looked eerily calm among the massacre around him. The hounds followed him, but didn’t attack his horse and when he leaned over his horse to pat one in the head and mutter something in its ear, there was no doubt left.

Crowley.

They would have to cross a field filled with beasts who would all try to kill them to get to him, but he knew none of his volunteers would hesitate. And neither would he.

“Remember the plan,” he instructed them, as he drew his sword. “Don’t engage in combat with anyone else. Kill his hounds if you can. We need to get to him. Whoever strikes the killing blow will be honored all through the kingdom.”

He looked at the faces of his followers one last time, all filled with courage and decision, and sank his heels in the stallion’s sides.

There were no battle cries or prayers thrown in the air as they ran down the mountain side to join the rest of the army. They were engulfed in the heat of battle in the blink of an eye.

At first they breezed through the field almost easily: they only needed to pass by the fighters, trying to remain blind and deaf to the turmoil around them. There was enough confusion and carnage going around that the enemies paid no mind to them. But the closer they got to where they had seen Crowley last, the tighter and bloodier the combats were to the point Castiel was no longer sure if his score was still behind him. He dared not to look over his shoulder or stop, instead choosing to frantically scan his surroundings until he finally caught sight of Crowley again.

There were Leviathans around and they seemed to be doing exactly what they would fear: whenever an Angeli or a Daemonai came closer, they repelled them or set the hounds on them to keep them away from their leader. The swords whistle in the air along with the shouts of pain and agony of every man they struck down.

And when they got close enough, the Leviathans finally turned their attention to them.

If they had looked fearsome from afar, up close they were terrifying. They jumped at them, bloodied weapons up high, and Castiel watched in horror as their eyes and noses disappeared, eaten away by the round darkness of their unnaturally large mouths and a long, thick tongue that snaked in the air as if they were tasting it. They let out guttural yells that sounded like horrors from the bowels of Hell itself. Three of them lunged forwards as if they wanted to bite a chunk of horse with their white, pointy teeth…

… he remember Cain’s words and decapitated the closest one. The edge of his sword cut through skin, muscles and bones and black blood that smelled rotten sprinkled his armor and his horse. Without sparing a second look, he turned and sank his weapon in another ugly mouth until the point appeared on the other side of its head. When he pulled out and waved in the air to attack the third one, his aiming failed: the sword slashed down the shoulder of the monster, missing its neck by a hair. The arm came off clean, more horrible black blood spraying around, but the Leviathan barely seemed to mind, still coming at him with a deafening roar…

An arrow pierced right through its forehead and it fell backwards. Castiel didn’t have to look to know who had executed such a precise shot. He let the relief to know his people was still with him wash over him before he turned looking for their objective again.

Crowley wasn’t far now, standing on his horse and shouting commands he didn’t get to hear over the clash of the fight. So Castiel did the same: he pointed his sword at him and bellowed at top of his lungs:

“Kill the traitor!”

“Kill the traitor!” Cain repeated and soon the screamed echoed all through their corner of the field, so loud and so simple that even some soldiers who hadn’t volunteered for the mission to kill Crowley set their sights on him and started fighting their way through the Leviathans.

He thought he saw Crowley flinch. Perhaps only a little, perhaps with the fear that he was a man whose name was in Death’s list. But he screamed again in a language Castiel didn’t recognize and raised his staff.

His hounds came at his call.

They were almost as big their horses, black as the night with thick black hair bristled on their backs. Their teeth and spit were stained red and their eyes shone green in the grey morning light. But as terrible and fierce as they were, Castiel discovered he preferred to fight them over the Leviathans. For one thing, it didn’t matter where the sword slashed them, they fell all the same. He sank his weapon in the chest of one and swung his sword to cut the leg of another. It fell away as Castiel charged towards Crowley once more…

His horse neighed in pain and dropped to the side. The ground rose up to meet him and he plunged face first into the mud and blood. A sharp ache shot through the leg trapped underneath the horse, who was thrashing and letting out terrified whimpers. Castiel dragged himself away as fast as he could, holding onto the tilt of his sword and cursing his armor. A hand grabbed unto his wrist and pulled him up and Castiel blinked in surprise at Benny. He was covered in grim and blood, and had his battle axe by his side. Without a second hesitation, he raised it over his head and brought it down to chop off the head of the hound that had snapped its teeth around the stallion’s hind leg and refused to let go.

Castiel pierced through the horse’s head with his sword to put the poor beast out of its misery.

_I’m sorry, Meg. It was a magnificent gift._

That momentary truce didn’t last much longer: more Leviathans were coming their way, like an endless wave of madness and destruction. Some of them were armed, but whatever Crowley had done to them made them forget about it and just try to take their opponents with their teeth and claws. With Benny by his side, Castiel made his way through them, cutting and slashing and ignoring the pain in his leg.

Crowley. Where was Crowley?

“He’s getting away!” Benny shouted.

Crowley had turned tail on his horse and was galloping in the opposite direction. Castiel couldn’t go after him with his leg hurt and Cain was already setting his horse to follow him, but with the hounds and the monsters…

The arrow that flew over their heads described a perfect arch and sank right in the joint of Crowley’s neck and shoulder, just in the spot where he wasn’t covered by the armor. The precision of the shot gave away Jo’s mastery once more.

It didn’t kill him. At that distance, there was no way it penetrated far enough to kill him. But it did unbalance him.

Castiel had to contain a scream of triumph when Crowley leaned on the side and fell off his horse. He was back on his feet immediately, whistling again and pointing at Cain, the closest enemy, with his staff, the jewel in its tip giving a sinister red glow to indicate his hounds who they should attack. Too late he realized that the knight wasn’t the only one coming from him.

“He can bleed!” someone shouted. And indeed, the blood was dripping down Crowley’s chest from the spot where the arrow had hurt him. “He can bleed, so he can die! Kill the traitor!”

The score of volunteers slayed Leviathans and hounds left and right, emboldened by the knowledge there was a chance, however slim, that they could end this all right then and there. Cain was also on his feet now, having left his horse for the hounds to devour and running towards Crowley with a sword in one hand and a shorter blade on the other.

“We have to help!” Castiel told Benny.

Benny didn’t hesitate: he lunged forward, swinging his battle axe with the might of a giant, chopping off the heads of the Leviathan with the precision of a surgeon. He managed to make enough space for Cain to center his attention on Crowley. The usurper cursed out loud and finally drew his sword.

Castiel was behind them, slowed down by his harmed leg and repelling any monster that might have come to Crowley’s aid, but he still managed to look at the fight going on in the center of the hurricane of activity they had just been thrown into.

For a man that was shorter than both his combatants, Crowley managed to defend himself with an almost hypnotic grace. He used the sword to stop the hits of Cain’s blade and Benny’s axe and directed his minions at them with the staff. There were arrows and lances flying through the air, keeping away the Leviathans before they arrived, but even when they managed to shoot them down, they still dragged themselves, like horrible mutilated worms, feverishly tasting the air with their tongues. Castiel saw Victor standing on them and driving his lance through their heads and several others imitated him.

He repelled another hound and turned around to see if there was an opening so he could go to Cain and Benny’s help…

It happened in a heartbeat. A fraction of a heartbeat, as it always happened in battle, but for many years to come, he would still be able to close his eyes and remember that moment as if it was burnt in his mind.

Benny raised his axe, ready to bring it down on Crowley’s neck, who was seemingly too busy with Cain. But just as Castiel turned to look at them, he saw the usurper turning on his feet, and he knew, even before the sword changed directions, even before it’s edge met its target, what was going to happen.

“Benny!” he shouted, but his voice was drown out by the clash of Cain’s sword against Crowley’s staff.

His sword slashed through Benny’s throat with terrifying ease. Benny coughed, only once, as thick red blood poured out of his lips, right before he slipped on the mud and fell motionless to the ground.

Crowley threw his head back and let out a cackle that infuriated Castiel. Suddenly, he no longer felt the rigidity of his fingers around the hilt, he no longer felt the pain in his leg or the sweat and the blood dampening his hair and his skin. All he had left was rage and that horrible laughter ringing in his ears.

He rushed to take the place of his fallen friend. Cain stepped backwards, defensive, as the usurper, with a manic grin twisting his lips, turned the full force of his attack on him. Castiel stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the glow of the red jewel at the end of the enemy’s staff.

And like the sun parted the clouds and cleared the sky, he knew what to do.

Crowley spotted him out of the corner of his eye and pointed the staff at him. The red jewel crashed against Castiel’s armor, sending a heat wave through as if the mere contact of it was beginning to melt it. Castiel had no time to think, no time to hesitate. He pushed against it, impaling himself in the scorching rock, ignoring the blistering throb spreading through his chest. Crowley’s beady eyes grew wider with surprise, and for a moment, it seemed like he knew exactly what Castiel intended to do. He tried to draw back, but it was far too late: the blade of the king's sword swung down, cutting clean through the traitor’s wrist.

Crowley’s bellow of fury was cut short when Cain’s blade found his neck. The usurper staggered backwards, blood cascading down his chest before he dropped to his knees. Cain took a step forwards and, brought down his sword. Crowley’s head rolled down on the battlefield and stopped, muddied and with its mouth agape, the last light in his eyes dimming out forever.

“It’s done!” the knight shouted, triumphant for anyone who could listen. “My king, it’s done…!”

Castiel heard him as if his voice came from far away. The blistering heat in his chest was rising up, smothering him and blurring his vision. The sword's hilt slipped from his fingers, but he barely noticed as his injured leg gave out. His body hit the ground for the second time that day, but he never realized: his mind was sinking into an infinite darkness.

 

* * *

 

The rain beat down hard against the castle’s walls. Gabriel could hear it outside, a furious storm with hollering winds that blew the water inside through the windows and rose the waves that crashed at the cliff where they stood. He could have sworn he felt the entire structure shiver and shake a couple of times. With every roar of thunder, he was certain the cliff would crumble, taking the castle and everyone inside it to the depths of the hungry sea below.

It was a ridiculous though, of course. But there wasn’t much he could do to avoid it.

It didn’t help he had slept badly (that was to say, not at all) the night before. The women had almost shoved him out of the room, telling him this wasn’t a matter for men and that they would let him know if there were any novelties as soon as they had them.

“It could take all night before the princess is born,” the dark-haired woman told him, shaking her head. “It’s best if you go to your room and get some rest, your Grace.”

Gabriel had tried doing exactly that and it had failed spectacularly. He simply wasn’t drunk to black out on that bed that felt too big and too strange without Sam taking half of it. He’d woken up several times during the night, whether it was for the storm or because he thought he heard a woman screaming in the distance. Finally, the morning had come, grey and dull behind the clouds.It was too early to start drinking, so he'd stood up, pulled his clothes on top of his head (clumsily without help, he didn’t want to call for anybody) and slipped outside.

The women had told them he wasn’t allowed in while Meg gave birth, but they’d never told him not to wait outside of the chambers. Gabriel paced the hallway up and down, leaning against the walls, observing the tapestries (the one with King Lucifer and the ruby-eyed dragon was particularly fascinating) and generally not knowing what to do with himself. In the distance, over the mountains, the battle would be beginning. They wouldn’t know the results for several days until their army managed to send a messenger. Or until the Leviathans came knocking on their door.

Every now and then, he could hear a muffled scream coming from inside of the chambers and he shivered. He knew women sometimes bled out and died when giving birth. On the other hand, it could be perfectly fine. Anna had given birth to four daughters and two sons and she’d never been at risk of dying. At least, that he knew of. He knew it was a lengthy, painful process and there could still be something wrong with the child at the end of it all.

Another thunder roared and Gabriel stood up from where he had been sitting to take another stroll up and down the hallway. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. The child would be born just fine. Maybe it would even be a boy, all seers and predictions be damned. And then he wouldn’t have to fight with Meg anymore about whether or not he could name it his heir. It was a pretty happy thought. It lasted about two heartbeats until he heard more screaming and voices coming from the inside.

They didn’t sound like everything was going smoothly. In fact, they sounded a little hysterical. Eavesdropping was a terrible habit, even more so on a man who was supposed to be as noble and good as him, but he still pressed his ear to the wooden door and tried to make out the words of all the women taking over each other.

“… try turning her over…!”

“It’s not working!”

“What’s going on?!” Meg’s voice came louder than the others. “I demand you tell me what’s wrong with my daughter!”

There was a pause, a pause that might have only lasted a fraction of a moment, but it felt like it went on for ages.

“She’s… she’s not breathing, my queen.”

“Give her to me!” Meg demanded. “Now!”

There was some scampering around and another long pause followed. Gabriel held his breath, held the need to barge into the room. Was the child alright? Why wasn’t she breathing? Why couldn’t she…?

Lightning flashed in the window behind him and in the second before the thunder followed, he heard a soft whimper. And then another sound, like a cat meowing growing in intensity until it sounded like it was right at his side. There were sighs and even a sob of relief.

“She’s a fighter,” Meg said, her voice dropping in volume. “Selene Stormborn. May Mother Moon bless you.”

“May she bless you,” the other women said in reverent whispers.

Gabriel breathed out and stepped back from the door, relieved as if he too was completely drained from the results of the birth.

“May the Lord and his Messengers bless you,” he muttered. He didn’t know why. He never was a religious man and he certainly didn’t care if his newborn niece was raised in the old religion.

He leaned against the wall and slid down, promising himself he was going to get up, go back to bed and wake up in a few hours more to have breakfast in just a moment. But his eyelids suddenly felt incredibly heavy and his head was dizzy, so he saw nothing wrong with staying right where he was. His chest fell against his chest and he let the weight of his exhaustion fall over him…

“Your Grace.”

Gabriel opened his eyes and jumped up, nervously rearranging his clothes as he looked around. Meg’s lady-in-waiting (what was her name? A precious stone thing. Sapphire or Emerald or something like that…) stood right before him, observing him without saying a word.

“There are more comfortable places to sleep in, your Grace,” she commented, tilting her head as him as if she couldn’t understand why he would be slumbering against the wall.

“I was… I was worried about the queen…” he said, quickly. “I was…”

“She’s resting now.”

“Yes, I… I understand that.” Gabriel scratched the back of his neck. He had no idea why he felt so nervous. He was a king and she was a simple lady-in-waiting, why did he feel compelled to give her explanations? “Uh… I was only wondering…”

The chambers door opened and the women that had gone inside the previous night exited. They all looked exhausted. Two of them were carrying sheets with red blood stains that they took away quickly and the third had a bundle of clothes in her hands. The lady-in-waiting beckoned her.

“His Grace wants to meet the princess."

The other woman only nodded tiredly and took a step towards him. She stretched her arms and before Gabriel could refuse or told her it was fine, he didn’t actually have to hold the child, the bundle was already in his hands. It felt strangely light and small. The lady-in-waiting took a step forwards and with an almost solemn gesture, she removed the cloth that covered her.

The baby’s face was pinkish and creased, her eyes closed and a tuft of dark hair at the top of her head. Her little hands were closed in fists and her chest fell and rose as she took deep slow breaths. She fell so fragile in his hands that he was about to beg the women to take her away when the baby shifted and turned her face towards him. She blinked a couple of times at him, as if she was curious about who he was supposed to be, and immediately closed them again to resume her sleeping.

But Gabriel had seen her eyes and a warm, fuzzy feeling was now spreading through his chest. He’d never liked children much. It couldn’t be said he had a connection with one, not even his nephews and nieces on Anna’s side. Sometimes he saw Sam’s face lightning up when he saw the children training in the yard and Gabriel wondered if he was doing wrong by keeping by his side, preventing him from marrying a woman and having some of his own. But he didn’t feel the same attachment and he never understood people who actually wished to have them.

But this child had set her gaze upon him for just a moment and he had seen something in it now he couldn’t forget. Something that made him feel fiercely protective of this little life that was his blood.

“Selene Stormborn,” he muttered. “You have your father’s eyes.”

 

* * *

 

Charlene of Middleton wasn’t having the best of days.

Well, she supposed there were people who were having a worse day than hers. There were the people that had died, of course, but they were resting in the Beyond now. Those were certainly the lucky ones. She had spent the morning bandaging cracked skulls, tending to wounds and worst of all, chopping down limbs. She had learned after a lengthy campaign and several disasters, that there was not much she could do for a soldier that had been bitten by a Leviathan. Their mouths had a potent venom that spread like gangrene, rotting the flesh and poisoning the blood in a matter of hours, until the patient died in the middle of intense fevers and a lot of pain. The only way to help them was to cut the infection entirely, and only then it depended on the gods if she had got to it on time.

That morning, in the Valley of Dragons, she didn’t see a lot of bites. Either because the soldiers had learned not to leave any skin exposed for the Leviathans to bite or because even their teeth weren’t sharp enough to cut through the Angeli’s armor, she’d only had to cut a couple of feet and a hand that day. To the ones who had been bitten on the neck or the face, well… she didn’t think anybody was exactly measuring how much milk of the poppy she was giving to them.

But even so, it looked like she had double the work. She and her helpers hadn’t stopped all day, not even to eat or have a drink of water since their frugal breakfast that morning. Either the Angeli hadn’t brought their own healers or they were just too lazy to look for them. And worse of all, they were entirely far too stubborn: she would patch them up and advised them to rest, but when she turned around, she found out they were gone, dashing back into the battlefield again.

Charlie couldn’t do anything but grit her teeth and turn her attention to the next wounded soldier. She tried not to think much about what was going on outside her tent. Since she had offered her services to Lady Abaddon and her army, she had found it was much easier to focus on the task of saving as much people as she could instead of worrying if the Leviathans were going to come crashing down the tent and eat her alive. If they lost the war, there wasn’t anything that a tiny healer from a small shore town could do about it.

She took one last look at her helpers to make sure they had the instruments clean, more water boiled, bandages and ointments ready to treat some wounds and then sat down for the first time in what felt like hours. Unless a major emergency came in, she could take a moment to chew some jerky and have a drink of watered down wine for…

“Help! You have to help us! We need a healer!”

Charlie cursed inwardly but stood up. If people came screaming like that and it turned out to just be a superficial wound…

The gods should have punished her for thinking like that, because the moment the people screaming came rushing through the door, Charlie knew it was a real problem. A knight in full armor and a blonde girl were holding a man between the two of them. For a moment, when she looked at him, Charlie thought she saw a gaping hole right in his chest, because her mind refused to process what it really was: the armor’s plate, burned so badly it was nothing but a still steaming black circle.

“Holy gods, what happened to him?!” Charlie shouted. She shook her head and regained her composure. “Lay him down. Krissy! Josephine! Come here!”

Her helpers ran and stopped in their place, staring at the wounded man with wide eyes and pure fear in their expressions. Krissy even covered her hands over her mouth as if she was holding back the bile and Charlie couldn’t blame her. The smell of burnt flesh stank the entire tent, like a hand covering their noses to the point they had to struggle to take a breath.

Charlie lifted up her scarf up to her nose so she wouldn’t accidentally infect the wound with her own humors and with expert fingers, she unclasped and untied the armor’s pieces. Krissy and Josephine grabbed the chest plate by different sides and on Charlie’s signal, they managed to break it off and lift it up, leaving behind just the black circle melted to the skin. It was reddened and swollen, with blisters all around it and Charlie imagined that underneath the piece of metal, it would look even worse. Charlie stopped for a moment to analyze the problem. How was she supposed to remove that metal without outright ripping pieces of skin? But she had to if she wanted to treat the burnt that might have already been infected by the bad humors of the metal and the battlefield.

“What did this?” she asked again.

The knight that had brought his friend in stepped forwards and showed it to her: it was a broken off black stick, with a round red sphere that sparkled underneath the dim candle lights and torches.

Josephine let out a scream and jumped backwards.

“Take that thing away!” she shouted, trembling in fear and shaking her head. “It reeks of dark magic!”

“You’re a Mother Moon priestess?” the knight asked. Josephine nodded. “Well, can’t you purge it then?”

“It’s too powerful,” Josephine replied, hugging herself as if that way she could protect herself from the dark magic in the jewel. “Only a Head of the Coven or the High Priestess herself could face that magic without getting tainted by it.”

Charlie lowered her eyes to her patient again. That definitely changed things. She could treat his wounds, sure, but if he was infected by something more powerful, by something even stronger than the Leviathan’s poison, then he would die for sure. The only thing she could do was make sure he was comfortable while he agonized and…

A knife glinted in the corner of her eye. Somehow, the blonde girl had sneaked up on her and she was pointing at Charlie’s throat with it.

“The gods speed you, healer,” she said. “You will do your best, even if you believe it’s hopeless.”

“My best could not even be enough!” Charlie argued.

“You will try,” the blonde girl insisted. “This man is your king and I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes if Queen Meg hears you didn’t even try to save him.”

Well, shit. She had a point.

“Bring me the pincers. The big ones,” Charlie instructed to her helpers. Krissy reacted quicker (Josephine was still eyeing the red jewel nervously) and gave them to them. “Hold him down.”

Krissy and Josephine both pressed their hands on the king’s shoulders. Charlie took a deep breath and tried to find a place from where to grab the piece of metal and hoped they would be strong enough. The pincers were designed to pull out rotten teeth from the gums. She didn’t think the principle of that would be much different.

The burnt skin made a crackling sound as she pulled the metal up. It was a good thing that the poor man was unconscious, otherwise he’d have been screaming in pain. The oily texture underneath was nothing but a gruesome sight: the flesh was black and red, with horrible blisters covering it. Charlie had seen burns before in her life, when a ship on the dock at her town had caught fire and the mariners (the ones who survived) had been brought to her house for treatment. But for some reason, this one was even uglier to her. Maybe because it formed a grotesque crater on the king’s chest.

“Krissy, bring me the lavender ointments and fresh bandages,” she instructed her. “Josephine… pray for him.”

Krissy moved away to get what she had been requested, while Josephine took the place over the head of the stretcher and lower her forehead to touch the king’s, muttering words Charlie couldn’t make out.

The blonde woman by her side lowered the knife. She turned around, strode towards the knight and snatched the broken stick off his hands.

“Lady Harvelle, what are you doing?”

“You heard her,” Lady Harvelle replied. “Only the High Priestess can purge this thing. I’m going back to the capital to take it to Queen Meg.”

“You can’t do that!” the knight argued, following her outside the tent. They were speaking so loudly that Charlie could hear them even as she focused all her attention on the wound. “The battle’s not over and you’re our best archer!”

“So you expect me to sit back and wait for Castiel to die?”

They never found out what the knight expected her to do: a horse approached them, its hooves clattering against the floor. Charlie cursed and hoped it wasn’t another wounded soldier right now. But she recognized the rider’s voice when she spoke:

“Hail, Sir Cain,” Lady Abaddon said. “The goddess of war has smiled upon us today. The Leviathans are retreating.”


	9. Chapter 9

Selene Stormborn was only five days old, but it was already clear she had inherited Meg’s temperament along with Castiel’s eyes. She cried at the top of her lungs when she was hungry or when she soiled herself and she refused to go to sleep for hours on end, throwing tantrums that lasted well into the night. Meg was proud of her strength and she wasn’t particularly bothered by the lack of sleep. She wouldn’t have been able to rest anyway, not with the uncertainty that hanged over their heads since the day of the battle.

“I’m sorry, my queen,” Ruby repeated over and over. “Crowley must be using a powerful magic to cloak himself. I can’t see the result of the fight. I’m blind.”

The advisors were enraged by that lack of answers. Meg thought it was funny: in times of peace, they questioned and sometimes even openly mocked Ruby’s visions (as much as thy dared to anyway), but the moment they were deprived of them, they all gave in to panic.

“How do we know she’s not lying?” Gil asked. He had always been Ruby’s most vocal detractor. “How do we know she’s not purposefully concealing information? How do we know she hasn’t betrayed us and is trying to keep us distracted while a Leviathan army marches towards our doors?”

“Well, then, Gil, I suppose we’ll know in a matter of days, won’t we?” Meg replied, with a smirk.

Her confidence and calm was only apparent, of course. She was inclined to believe Ruby: the Seer seemed to have aged ten years in just a few days, her cheeks sunken and the dark circles around her eyes indicating she was getting even less sleep than Meg. As if she was forcing herself with every bit of her will to see down paths that were, maybe for the first time in her life, as unclear to her as to the rest of them.

Meg wondered if it even mattered. Either the Leviathans were coming or they weren’t. Her heart would be broken no matter the result.

“We have a ship ready at the docks,” Alastair informed her. “If we see the enemy coming, we will embark you, Princess Selene and King Gabriel on it. It will take you straight to Angelia, where you can be safe and start planning your return with our allies. The kingdom will await you, my queen.”

Meg nodded appreciatively. She didn’t tell him she had no intention to set a foot on that ship, she wasn’t going to run and leave her kingdom to burn again under Crowley’s fist. She would see Selene to safety, send her with her uncle and the women of their coven to Angelia and hope that one day she would manage what her mother couldn’t. Meg would stay behind and fight until her last breath, praying Mother Moon reunited her with her husband, her brother and her parents in the Beyond.

“You have a very particular way of raising your children, sister,” Gabriel commented.

Meg opened her eyes and looked at him sleepily. She was sitting on her favorite chair by the window, enjoying the breeze and the sound of the crashing waves against the cliff. She was feeding Selene and as it often happened when her daughter found her nipple and started sucking, she had been invaded by a sweet drowsiness. Gabriel had got used to her taking the child everywhere with her and feeding her whenever it was necessary, though he had been startled by it the first few times.

“How so?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Well, you do everything yourself,” Gabriel explained. “In Angelia, women of your rank have nurses that do everything in their place. Even feed them.”

“That is ridiculous,” Meg answered. “She is my child, why wouldn’t I take care of her?”

She didn’t say, of course, that she feared she’d have to part from Selene. Those few days together were the only ones they would have if things had gone awry and she wouldn’t give up a moment of them. If she didn’t get to see her grow, if she didn’t get to see her become the princess she knew she could be, at least she could have the memory of her weight in her arms, her warmth against her skin, her eyes just like Castiel’s, when she came out to face Crowley and her destiny.

Gabriel looked infinitely sad, as if he knew exactly why Meg took even the most humiliating duties of caring for her daughter so diligently. He opened his mouth, but Casey burst into her chambers without even knocking before he could say another word.

“My queen!” she said. “Messengers from the battlefield.”

The sudden lurched in her stomach and the sinking of her heart must have been obvious on Meg’s face, because Casey smiled at her.

“It’s good news, my queen. Our armies are victorious.”

“Oh, thank the Lord,” Gabriel muttered, closing his eyes.

Meg knew she should have been as relieved as him. She should have been happy, delighted that their enemy had been defeated. But as she stood up and covered herself, as she put Selene in Casey’s hands and climbed down the stairs to meet the messengers, she felt cold. Scared, even. She didn’t want to hear that Castiel had fallen in battle. She didn’t want to hear she had lost him forever. She knew it already, in her mind, but her heart still refused to accept that reality. And while she didn’t hear it, while she didn’t see his pale face and his lightless eyes, she could entertain the illusion that he would come back to her.

She took a moment to breathe deeply outside the Council’s door. She could hear the agitated chattering inside, voices speaking on top of each other all at the same time. Gabriel stopped in front of her, looking at her inquiringly, but then Meg nodded and he opened the door for her. Immediately, all the voices went quiet as she took her place on the head of the table. She thought she saw pity on the eyes of everyone that turned towards her and wondered if that was how she was going to be looked at forever now that she was a widow.

“The queen shall listen,” she said absentmindedly, even before she raised her eyes to meet those of the messengers. She knew both of them. One was the Angeli boy, barely old enough to go into battle, that was chosen to be Castiel’s squire.

The other was Sir Cain. He gave a profound bow before he spoke:

“My queen, we have won,” he said, curtly. He placed a sack on the council’s table and opened it without further ceremony.

At her side, Gabriel covered his mouth as if he was nauseous, but Meg couldn’t help a pang of satisfaction. Crowley’s head looked pretty grotesque, with the skin dry clinging to its bones. His mouth was open as if he was screaming and his eyes stared at her, lifeless and defeated. This man had taken the life of her father and her brother. This man had betrayed them and done horrific acts, used forbidden knowledge to achieve his power. Death was the least he deserved, but Meg would take it.

“I want him placed in the battlements,” Meg said. “May he forever look upon the kingdom he tried to destroy. May he watch us grow and prosper and may his soul never find rest in the Beyond.”

Cain nodded and closed the sack again, taking away the macabre gift he had brought her. Meg looked at the Angelai boy, who was shifting awkwardly in his position.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“S-Samandriel, your Grace.”

“Samandriel,” Meg repeated and took a deep breath. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry in front of everyone, but the lump in her throat was making that keeping of that promise difficult. “Where is my husband?”

Samandriel swallowed loudly and stuttered exactly the kind of bullshit Meg wasn’t interested in hearing: that Castiel had fought bravely, that it had been his leadership that led them to victory, that if it wasn’t for him…

Meg raised her hand to shush him.

“ _Where_ is he?” she repeated, her voice breaking a little. “Why didn’t you bring him back to me so I could bury him properly?”

Samandriel was startled by that question.

“The… the king isn’t dead, your Grace,” he replied. “He was gravely wounded in battle, to the point the healer said it would be a mistake to try and move him. But when we left to bring you these news, he was still among the living.”

Meg allowed herself a moment of hope, the tiniest glimmer of it, before she turned her face to Cain and saw in his eyes what the stuttering squire couldn’t say.

“The king went hand to hand with Crowley,” Cain said, putting another bundle on the table. “I struck the killing blow, but I wouldn’t have been able to if it wasn’t for him. He… Crowley hurt him with this.”

He removed the wrappings and bile immediately rose to Meg’s throat. A foul stench, like rotting corpses and pestering wounds, invaded the room. Her coven flinched and recoiled (Lilith even gasped as if the air had been punched off her, Casey held Selene against her chest as if to protect her), all of them with disgusted expressions in their faces, but the men in the room remained undisturbed. They couldn’t feel the unnatural power that emanated from the red jewel that Cain had put in front of them, they didn’t notice the effect of its unsettling glow in the room itself.

“Ruby?” Meg asked, after suppressing a heave. “What in the gods’ names is that?”

Ruby’s nose was wrinkled and her mouth twisted as if she too was trying not to vomit, but after struggling against her own tongue, she managed to answer:

“That is the source of Crowley’s power. That’s what he’s been using to fog my visions. He was so convinced he would win, but he still didn’t want us to see him coming in case he did. He… it’s Void magic, my queen.”

This time, even the men (at least the Daemonai) seemed upset. Void magic was as different from Mother Moon’s magic as the day was from the night. Mother Moon’s spells were meant to protect, to heal. The power of the Void, however, only brought chaos and destruction, for the Void could only make things that were similar to itself and it would inevitably consume its user. Only arrogant fools and desperate people dared to dabble in it. Crowley might have been a little bit of both, judging by the fact his head was now in a sack on the floor.

“We must cleanse it. Tonight is the full moon, but even if it wasn’t, this cannot wait. As long as that thing exists, Crowley’s evil will still roam our kingdom.”

Her coven understood. Tessa, Lilith and Casey bowed to her and left the room. They had to prepare themselves, mentally and spiritually, for that night. It would be a long and perhaps even dangerous ritual, but Meg was confident they’d be victorious in the end. They were stronger than Crowley and they always had been.

“Sir Cain, please wrap it up,” Meg added. Cain immediately covered the jewel again, which attenuated the odor, but not for much. “I trust you to keep it safe until tonight, when you will bring it to my chambers so we can dispose of it.”

“Yes, my queen,” Cain replied. There was a slight frown between his eyebrows, as if he was convinced Meg was going to react differently or ask about something else.

But Meg had seen and heard enough. She knew what she had to do. She dismissed her Council and turned for the door. Gabriel strode towards Samandriel, perhaps to find out about the fates of his friends, but she didn’t particularly care for them. She held unto Ruby’s arm and almost dragged her to a corner so they could speak privately.

“Will it be enough?” she asked, in a hushed whisper. “If we get rid of Crowley’s magic, will it be enough to save him?”

She didn’t need to clarify who she meant. Ruby looked at her with immense pity in her dark eyes.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “This type of magic has lasting effects even after it’s vanished, my queen, and it depends on how much damage his body sustained. Keep in mind there’s quite a distance between the castle and the Valley of Dragons. For all we know, the king could’ve died while the messengers travelled back here.”

“But you don’t know,” Meg pointed out. Ruby didn’t answer and Meg didn’t need her to. She understood how foolish she sounded. She didn’t know why she insisted on clinging to that bit of uncertainty. Perhaps because if she didn’t, she would fall apart completely and no one (nor her kingdom, nor her daughter, nor Castiel) needed that right now. She shook her head and when she spoke again, she hoped her voice had the same authority as usual: “Tell the servants to prepare my carriage. I will go to the Valley personally. We’ll leave with the first light.”

“I don’t know what you expect to accomplish with that, my queen.”

“If Castiel is still alive, I want to hold his hand until death calls his name,” Meg replied. “And if it’s too late, then I want to be the one to prepare him for the grave. Either way, it might be the only chance Selene will have to see her father’s face, even if she won’t remember it.”

Not even Ruby could deny her that one last mercy for her brief marriage. The Seer nodded and when she looked up, Meg noticed she was looking over her shoulder. She turned to find Cain standing behind her.

“My queen,” he said.

Ruby discreetly left them alone, but right then, Meg had nothing to say to the man that had been her favorite knight.

“Excuse me, Sir Cain. We can talk later. I need to rest.”

Cain seemed like he was going to protest, but at the last second, he closed his mouth and stepped backwards.

“Yes, of course. Forgive me.”

Meg still felt the weight of his eyes boring into her as she walked away. What he had wanted to tell her, she never found out, and in any case, it wasn’t as important as the perspective of vanquishing every trace of Crowley from her kingdom once and for all.

 

* * *

 

Cain spent a lot of time looking outside of his window that afternoon. By the time the sun had started to set, he had made a decision.

He found Ruby outside Meg’s chambers, looking at the tapestry that showed King Lucifer riding his red-eyed dragon.

“Witch,” he called her. “I need to talk to you.”

“I was expecting that, sir Cain,” the Seer replied, with a shrug. “My vision is returning now that I know what was blocking it.”

“Then you know what I came here to ask.”

Ruby didn’t try to deny it.

“The king lives,” she replied. “Not for long now. There’s an adorable young girl using every ounce of her power, every breath she draws to pray for him, but she’ll lose eventually. She’s not strong enough to fight against this magic. We can be, although barely. Tonight’s ritual will be exhausting and the last thing the queen needs right now is your interference.”

Cain took note of the warning in her voice, but didn’t back down. He had a lot to atone for, he knew. He had been the one who had encouraged Meg’s feelings for him despite knowing his heart was broken after Colette’s death and wouldn’t allow him to love Meg like she deserved. He had been the one who had doubted Castiel’s faithfulness, who had tried to set him up out of jealousy and pettiness and involved Lady Harvelle in his schemes. He had failed his king, letting his friend die in battle, and he had failed Meg, letting Castiel make the ultimate sacrifice because he couldn’t kill Crowley fast enough. Those regrets weighted on his head and his heart and he was certain Ruby could see that as clear as day.

“How can I save him?”

“What makes you think there’s a way?” Ruby asked, still looking at the tapestry rather than at him. “And if there is, what makes you think that I know it?”

Cain gritted his teeth. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He stepped forwards and took out the leather bag that hanged from his neck to show it to her.

“Early in Crowley’s uprising, Meg gave this to me,” he told her. “It’s a charm meant to keep me from harm.”

“I know what it does,” Ruby replied. She arched an eyebrow. Cain couldn’t know for sure, but he thought that was a gesture of surprise. “Why do you still keep it? Its magic has long since worn out.”

“Not its meaning,” Cain replied. “I know Meg and I know how she loves. I know she wouldn’t have sent her husband into a bloody battle without some form of protection.”

Ruby turned her face for him. Cain was about to lose his patience with her when she spoke again:

“Do you know the story of how hour kingdom came to be?”

“Everybody knows that story,” Cain said, both irritated and confused by this new course of the conversation. “King Lucifer tamed some dragons and used them against his enemies. What of it?”

“If you tell it like that, you lose all the interesting parts, sir,” Ruby said. There was almost a mocking intonation in her voice. “Lucifer was the first son of an Angelia king, did you know that? The throne should have been his. His father, however, had embraced the One God religion while Lucifer still worshiped the old gods. The king decided that Lucifer wasn’t qualified to sit on the throne because of this, even though it was his right as the eldest son, and named his younger son the heir instead. Lucifer and a part of the nobility rebelled against this and Angelia was divided for centuries.”

Cain had begun wondering what all of that had to do with Castiel and Meg, but he remained quiet. He had never heard that part of the legend before.

“When his brother attacked to recover the land, Lucifer went to the dragons,” Ruby kept saying. “They were an ancient breed and they knew their time was coming to an end, for the gods had given them the power to see into fate’s forking paths. They made a deal with Lucifer: they would help him defeat his brother, and in turn, Lucifer would have to take one of them as his bride. Lucifer accepted, though he knew not how he would marry a dragon.” Ruby stretched her fingers, so the tip grazed the tapestry in front of her. A sad smirk appeared on her lips. “After the battle was won, the dragons used their last bit of power to turn their youngest daughter into a human woman, and so their magic and wisdom persisted in the blood of the children she bore for Lucifer.”

“It’s… a pretty tale,” Cain said after a pause. Even though it didn’t sound like a tale at all.

“Oh, but you haven’t heard to end of it yet: the years passed and the king grew old and grey while his wife barely aged, for she still had the long lifespan of a dragon. In his deathbed, he made her promise that one day, one of their own descendants would take their rightful place as the heir Angelia, and both kingdoms would become one again. She gave her word and she was bound by magic to see that this would happen.” She smiled again. “And that time is drawing closer.”

Cain’s throat dried.

“Meg’s child.”

“I am tired, Sir Cain,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “Had I known it would take this long and this many battles, this much of my own blood shed, I would’ve held my tongue. Every step I’ve taken, every path I’ve tried to follow has lead me to failure. But now I’m on the edge of fulfilling my oath, and I will finally join my forefathers in the Beyond.”

When she looked at him again, her eyes suddenly had a glimmer that sent a shiver down Cain’s spine. For a moment, they hadn’t looked dark at all, but red and terrible, the eyes of an impossibly old creature. She blinked and the effect was gone, but Cain was still certain of what he had seen.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, in an almost reverent whisper. If she truly was who she was insinuating, she was the mother of Daemonia and she should be treated as such.

“Because you won’t tell anybody what you’ve heard. People have forgotten and they wouldn’t believe you anyway,” Ruby said, confidently. “And because I understand you. I understand the sacrifices we’re willing to make for love. You’re right, Meg did cast a spell to protect her husband.” She searched inside her robe’s sleeve and took out a vial with a dark red liquid inside. “But she refused to use it when she found out it would cost someone else’s life to save his. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Cain stared at the vial. With trembling fingers, he grabbed it and held it close to his chest. The blood inside should’ve have coagulated long ago, but it was still liquid and warm, almost pulsing in his hand.

“How does it work?”

“If Castiel had taken it, he would’ve been protected and Death would’ve call someone’s name at random,” Ruby explained. “But if someone drinks it for him, that person will take his place in Death’s list. Meg didn’t know this.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“She wasn’t willing to sacrifice someone without knowing who it’d be,” Ruby pointed out. “What makes you think she would’ve agreed if she’d had to look at the face of the random peasant chosen for it?”

Cain nodded. Yes, Meg was too noble for that.

“There are criminals in our dungeons,” Ruby continued. “There are old people in the city waiting impatiently for their name to be called. There are thousands of little lives that mean nothing to you or to her. I’m sure some would even be honored to give their life for the king’s.”

“Yes, I’m sure they would be,” Cain muttered.

“But you won’t choose any of them, will you?”

Cain placed the vial next to the charm Meg had given her, so many years ago now it almost felt like a dream.

“Will you tell her?” he asked. “What I did for her?”

“She will know,” Ruby assured him.

That wasn’t quite the same, but Cain accepted it. He gave Ruby the bundle with Crowley’s jewel (she grabbed with just her fingertips and held it arm’s length, as if it disgusted her) and bowed to her. She had been a queen, after all.

“Farewell, Sir Cain.”

Cain didn’t allow himself to linger in the hall in the hopes of seeing Meg come out of her chambers. He didn’t allow himself to look back as he climbed down the stairs. He told the stable boys he needed a horse to fulfill a mission for the queen and they didn’t protest or pointed out how late it was for him to be leaving the castle.

He let the horse gallop without paying much attention to where they were going. He kept going until the moon was high up in the sky and only then he halted and looked back. The castle and its cliffs were shapeless forms in the distance. Meg would be busy with the ritual now, purging the last of Crowley’s evil presence from her land, a different battle than his.

He led his horse stray from the known paths and penetrated the hostile woods most sensible people avoided after dark. When he found a clearing that was sufficiently deep between the trees, he stopped, dismounted and unsaddled and unbridled his horse. The beast would be free to return to the castle or maybe some lucky peasant would find him and take him in, use him for light labor and travels. It wasn’t Cain’s concern now.

He sat down on the roots of a big oak, and took out the vial. He examined it one last time underneath the starlight and unscrewed the cork that kept it seal.

“To your health, my king,” he said to himself and swallowed the red liquid in one single gulp. It tasted strangely sweet, almost like wine.

Nothing happened. At least, he didn’t feel any different. Fear took over his mind. If Castiel was already dead, then the spell would have no effect. Had he been too late? Had he…?

Someone was singing. A woman, she was singing an old ballad about the knights that returned home after the battle. What a strange thing, how could someone sing at that hour of the night, in such a deserted place? Although, now that he look again, he realized it wasn’t that late. He must have fallen asleep without realizing, because the sun was rising in the horizon, bathing the woods in golden glow. He blinked several times, but the daylight didn’t hurt his eyes. The path had changed with it: the trees were no longer naked branches, but covered in vibrant green leafs and fragrant flowers. Busy bees buzzed among them and birds chirped around him, accompanying the singing with a strangely harmonious melody.

And as he followed his voice, he realized he knew her. His heart thrummed in his chest though he didn’t dare to hope, he didn’t dare to believe.

But as he turned around another tree, he saw her sitting among the green grass, with flowers in her dark hair and wearing a white dress. She was just as young and beautiful as the day they’d married.

“Colette.”

His late wife beamed at him. She stood up and beckoned him closer.

“Welcome home, my love,” she said.

All doubt was raised from Cain’s mind. He stumbled towards her to take her hand and follow her into the Beyond.

 

* * *

 

Josephine raised her face in such a brusque movement it woke Jo up.

“What?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” the girl murmured. “Something’s changed.”

Jo immediately stood up and turned on the candle on the table. She moved it closer to the king’s face, but she saw no changes: it was still ashen, his eyes still close and his breathing still slow and even. She dared to touch his hand, only to confirm it was still clammy and a little colder than they would like. He had remained like this since the battle, no matter what methods Charlie had used to try to wake him up. In the end, she had given Jo a tube to give him water (“Just water, we don’t know how his stomach will react to something different”) and she had left to care for other wounded soldiers.

She hadn’t asked her helper, the young Mother Moon priestess, to come with her, so Josephine had remained by the king’s bed almost as much as Jo had, taking breaks only occasionally to eat or fall into a light sleep.

“The king is fighting,” she’d told Jo. “This… power that has got ahold of his body, he’s fighting it. The best I can do is protect him, give him all the strength I can.”

Jo didn’t understand that sort of thing. She prayed to Mother Moon like all women did, of course, and she was in good terms with the coven at her father’s lands, but she’d never participated in their secret rituals nor she’d understood how their magic worked. When it came to engaging in combat, she preferred things she could hit with her arrows.

But she understood there existed things in this world that belonged to the gods and those with the capacity to engage with them in a deeper level. Josephine was only seventeen at most, with light brown skin and shiny dark eyes, but when she leaned her head against Castiel’s and muttered her prayers, she seemed like a much older and wiser woman. And an exhausted one at that.

She was trying to sit back on staggering feet, so Jo hurried to hold her arm and keep her steady until she could lower herself down in the chair.

“What has changed?” Jo asked, because it was the first time in days she the priestess stop her praying and it wasn’t to take a break.

“I can’t… I can’t explain it,” Josephine said, shaking her head. Her black curls were frizzy and long, forming a dark halo around her face. “He… the shadow of death is no longer over him. The king will live.”

Jo approached the feeling of relief in her chest with caution. She didn’t want to believe something that could be easily disproven.

“Are you sure?”

“I felt it when it left him,” Josephine insisted. “He’s still weak and still fighting, but he will live. Perhaps Queen Meg managed to expel the magic of that awful jewel.”

Jo breathed out, a sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding in.

“Yes,” she muttered. “Perhaps that’s was it.”

 

* * *

 

They couldn’t have left the Valley of Dragons after the battle even if they had wanted to. There were many things to do still: heal the wounded, which were many, and bury the dead, which were also numerous and growing as some soldiers succumbed to their wounds. The Angeli burned their dead instead of burying them, and after some deliberation, it had been decided that the fallen Daemoni and the Leviathans’ corpses should receive the same treatment because it was more dignified and clean than ditching them all in a massive grave. Watching the rows of bodies lined up, waiting for their turn to be put to the torch, and the smoke raising to the sky when their finally burned, Jo felt it was a miracle of the gods that they’d survived that battle at all.

Of course, it wasn’t a miracle. Castiel had been right: cut the head and the body falters. Without Crowley’s guidance to keep them in line, the Leviathans had scampered, confused and chaotic, instead of attacking like a unified force and ultimately, they had fled. The hounds, on the other hand, were maddened by their blood thirst and kept attacking until most of them were taken down. Some were chased into the woods and disappeared and Jo was certain that they would become a matter of legends in the years to come.

She’d spent most of those frantic days either by Castiel’s side or helping Charlie and the other healers. The redheaded little woman, Jo had come to learn, had no patience for people who couldn’t make themselves useful.

“The king isn’t going to wake up faster just because you watch him like a hawk, milady. Since you’re sitting there, you might as well help me prepare my ointments.”

So Jo had a practical quick course on how to tenderize, mash and mix different kinds of healing herbs. She helped Charlie change bandages and talked to soldiers to find who have survived and who have fallen. Not surprisingly, both Winchester brothers still lived and they’d come to see Castiel early on the second morning after the battle. Sam had an arm on a sling and Dean seemed intact, but Jo noticed he cringed and moved slower than usual.

They both had looked immensely worried to see Castiel’s unconscious body.

“Do you mind if we send our own healer to examine him?”

“What… do you think I haven’t done my best for him?” Charlie had asked, offended. It was funny, considering she had hesitated in even attempting to treat him until she’d found out who he was.

“No, of course not, we meant nothing of the sort,” Sam had said, raising an arm in a conciliatory gesture. “We just… maybe could use a second opinion.”

Charlie hadn’t been happy about it, but she’d agreed. The Angeli’s healer, a man named Raphael with dark skin and inquisitive eyes, had come that afternoon and confirmed that Charlie had done everything she could, even treat the broken bone in the king’s leg.

“Then why isn’t he waking up?” Dean had asked, impatiently.

“I couldn’t tell you, milord,” Raphael had replied, with a slight shrug. “Forgive me, healer, but when I was coming here, I noticed you’ve been treating a lot of soldiers for bites. Do you mind if I ask what you used?”

Charlie was happy to share her medicines with him. She was an easy woman to keep content.

Dean and Sam had been clearly frustrated Raphael couldn’t give them many answers, but they’d stuck around as much as their duties would allow them to. Not a day went by in which one or the other dropped by to inquire about Castiel’s state.

“You look tired, milord.”

“Don’t we all?” Dean laughed bitterly while pinching the bridge of his nose. “I had to put one of my oldest friends to the torch three days ago and I’m afraid I will have to put another soon. I believe I’ve earned my exhaustion.”

Jo nodded. She’d seen Lord Lafitte fall on the battlefield by Crowley’s hand. She didn’t believe telling him Josephine was sure Castiel would live would be much consolation.

“I’m sorry.”

“We’re going to need a new spymaster,” Dean had complained. “Gabriel won’t be happy. Benny was as loyal as loyal could be.”

And that had been as much as he’d allowed himself how affected he really was. Jo wondered what he’d say about Castiel if the king died as well. But as selfish as that was, Jo preferred to see Dean like that. Instead of the arrogant, wisecracking, annoying nobleman she had met while on their way to the Valley, this was a man with real sensitivities, with real concerns and fears. A man she could even call a friend.

He seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he leaned over and stared at her with his bright green eyes.

“I owe you an apology, Lady Harvelle,” he said. “I doubted you and your abilities, but you defended yourself out there as well as any veteran soldier. They tell me you even managed to put an arrow on Crowley. That’s commendable.”

Jo hoped she wasn’t blushing, but she still grinned at him.

“I accept your apology, my lord,” she said and offered her hand to him. They exchanged a vigorous shake. It was a thing of the gods, how people so different could come together after all, how they could find common ground. Jo was about to comment on it when there was a commotion outside of the tent.

Charlie ran inside, a panicked look in her eyes as she cleaned her hands in her apron.

“What gives, healer?” Dean asked, as Charlie move around the tent nervously, as if she was trying to make it look more welcoming and orderly.

“A carriage!” Charlie explained, her voice turned into a high-pitch shriek. “A carriage is coming and they say the queen is in it! Oh, gods, she’s going to want to see her husband! Krissy! Josephine! Where are those girls?!”

Jo and Dean looked at each other, confused. Last time they had seen Queen Meg she had been heavily pregnant, how was it possible she was coming now?

The answer made itself clear just a few moments later, when they came out to join the rest of the soldiers and knights gathered around. The carriage stopped near the healers’ tents and a page opened the door. Queen Meg emerged, carrying a bundle that moved and cried in her hands, close to her chest as if it was the most precious treasure in all of the kingdom. It probably was.

Jo bent her knee respectfully as did the rest of the Daemonai. Soon the Angeli did as well, because after Meg, a little clumsily, King Gabriel descended as well. A grave silent fell on the Valley of Dragons as the two armies waited for their rulers to speak.

Meg took a step forwards.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was almost a gentle whisper, but Jo had no doubt in her mind everybody could hear her. “In Princess Selene name, I thank you all for your courage and your sacrifices. I thank for what you did here for the future of our kingdoms.”

“Long live Daemonia!” somebody shouted.

“Long live Queen Meg!”

“Long live Princess Selene!”

The roar of cheering and clapping put a smile on Meg’s pale face. She also looked terribly exhausted, but still as solemn and proud as any queen should be.

“Yes, thank you,” Gabriel said, although his voice didn’t sound as clear and confident. “You’ve… fought bravely.”

Saying anything else at that point would be just repetition. There was more cheering and some “Bless be Angelia!” cries, but they extinguished themselves quickly. Gabriel looked around and immediately spotted Sam Winchester (it was hard not to, with how tall that man was) and ran towards him. The two melted in a tight embrace, as did Queen Meg and Lady Abaddon.

“You should have warned me you were coming, cousin.”

“I thought you’d knew,” Meg replied. “Cain left the castle the night before I did. I thought he’d have returned by now.”

Lady Abaddon shook her head.

“We haven’t seen him since he left to present you with Crowley’s head.”

Queen Meg frowned, but commented nothing on it. They had reached the tent, where Jo and Dean were standing. They both bowed to her.

“Lady Harvelle,” Meg said and Jo raised her eyes at her. “Thank you. My husband’s squire told me about your loyalty, about how you didn’t leave his side in the battle. You will be rewarded for that.”

Jo felt her cheeks burning in shame. That she had thought for a second they didn’t love each other still stung her a bit.

“You’re welcome, my queen,” she said. “He was a leader we could rally behind. He is, and he’ll still be when he wakes.”

Meg breathed out, still rocking her baby back and forwards trying to calm her crying. It had soothed to soft whimpers, but the princess was still quite restless.

“She’s tired from the trip,” Meg explained, even though no one was going to say a word about it.

Dean moved the tent aside and beckoned for Meg to get inside. Charlie was still fretting, but she stopped the moment she saw her royal visitor. She, Krissy and Josephine lined up and bowed to her reverently.

“What’s your name, healer?”

“Ch-Charlene of Middleton, my queen,” Charlie stuttered.

“I thank you for what you did for Castiel.” She then turned to Josephine before Charlie could muttered anything else. A glimmer of recognition burned in her eyes. “You kept him alive.”

“I prayed for him with all my strength, my queen,” Josephine said, humbly. Meg stretched her hand towards her and Josephine stepped up to squeeze it. “I couldn’t wake him, though. He’s out of my reach.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” the queen said. “Mother Moon bless you.”

Josephine looked deeply moved. It wasn’t everyday a simple devotee received the blessing of her High Priestess, Jo deduced.

And having given thanks to everyone she had to, Meg’s attention finally centered on the bed and the sleeping figure in it. For once, the serenity in her features disappeared as quickly as the snow melting under the sun, and they all could see, for just a heartbeat, how tired and how scared she really was. Her voice still sounded firm when she said:

“I’d like to be alone with my husband.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Meg put the baby in Lady Abaddon’s hands.

Charlie untied the tent’s door, ready to let it fall as soon as everyone had left. Jo still looked over her shoulder before it fell to see Meg sitting down on the chair she had occupied for many nights waiting for the king to wake. Jo had the certainty that if someone could pull Castiel out of whatever dreamland he was in, it would be Meg.

 

* * *

 

His skin was cold. That was the first thing Meg noticed and it made her shiver. Castiel had always been a warm presence in her bed, she could always wrap her arms around him to fend off the chill of the night, to feel protected. His fingertips always burned in her skin and his kiss always managed to set her aflame. This didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel natural at all.

The night of the ritual to cleanse Crowley’s magic had been long and exhausting. Her coven stood on the beach, chanting prayers to Mother Moon and when the morning came, the red jewel had turned crystal clear. Meg had ordered it locked away with the rest of the treasures, her father’s broken sword and her mother’s crown. One day, when she was old enough, she would tell Selene the story of all those objects.

She had immediately jumped into her carriage to leave for the Valley. She had rested, as much as she could on the journey, but between Selene’s needs and the rough path they’d had to take, she was starting to feel the effects of the last week catching up to her.

But she still placed her forehead against Castiel’s and focused what little bit of energy she had on him. She could feel a fog around him, grey and thick, a mist that kept him hidden from her and out of her reach. Ruby perhaps could have told her if that mist was natural or if it was an aftereffect of Crowley’s spells, but she was still at least a day behind with the rest of their coven.

In any case, Meg pushed forwards, feeling in the dark while her hand squeezed his tightly.

“Cas,” she muttered, both out loud and in her mind. There was a stirring, far away, so subtle she could have imagined it, so weak it barely could even be called that. “Castiel,” she repeated, hoping her voice would be louder than death’s. “Castiel of the Angeli, King of Daemonia. Beloved. Come back to me.”

Her cheeks were humid with tears. Underneath her, Castiel’s body was beginning to warm up. He let out a sigh that interrupted the even cadence of his breathing, and Meg knew she was reaching him.

“You said you’d be mine,” she reminded him. “You _are_ mine and I demand you keep your word. Your queen orders you to come back. Your wife implores you.”

Castiel gasped for air underneath her and his hand squeezed on her. Meg moved away just enough to watch his face, watch as the colors flood back to it, as his eyes fluttered and fought to open up. She kept calling for him, goading him away from the mist that clouded his mind and clung to his soul, begging him. Finally, after what felt like eons, he moved his head a little and fixed his blue gaze on her.

“Meg,” he croaked. “I just had a terrible nightmare.”

Meg choked back a sob and leaned to hug him.

“Yes. Just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare, my love. That was all it was.”

Castiel shuddered underneath her and kiss her hair, his fingers lingering on her cheek as if he doubted she was real, as if he needed to touch her to make sure.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I lost the stallion you gave me.”

Meg laughed against his neck and moved away.

“It doesn’t matter,” she told him. “I have another gift for you.”

Abaddon was waiting alone outside, apparently having shooed away everyone else. She put Selene back on Meg’s arms and walked away without asking about Castiel. She didn’t need to.

Castiel’s eyes followed Meg the entire time with a frown of confusion, but as soon as she turned back to him, he understood and sucked in a breath. Meg sat by him and carefully lowered the bundle that was their daughter to his bandaged chest.

“Her name’s Selene Stormborn.”

“Selene,” Castiel repeated. The baby stared at him with enormous eyes, maybe wondering who this man whose voice rumbled low against her was. Slowly, a smile bloomed in Castiel’s lips as his fingers followed the shape of their daughter’s face. “She’s beautiful.”


	10. Epilogue

For having just won a war against an evil sorcerer, there were still too many things that needed to be done.

“The surviving Leviathans fled north towards the mountains and if they follow them along, they will reach your borders in a matter of weeks,” Abaddon explained as she pointed the strategic points in the map. “Whatever Crowley did to them, they weren’t men anymore and I doubt they will recover their sanity now that he’s gone. I say we need to kill them to the last one before they reach Angelia.”

“I agree,” Gabriel said. “I’ll send word to Lord Ezekiel of what’s happened here and tell him to start reinforcing the security at the mountain villages.”

Everyone in the Council turned to look at him.

“What, did I grow a second head all of the sudden?” Gabriel asked, smiling despite his self-consciousness.

“You… just made a suggestion that made sense,” Dean pointed.

“Careful, Dean, I could get offended,” Gabriel groaned. “I just thought it would be a good idea, that’s all.”

“It is a good idea,” Meg agreed. “What about the hounds?”

“They went everywhere,” Abaddon said with a frustrated groan. “They were savage and the gods protect us if they meet our wolves and breed with them. The woods won’t be safe for a couple of seasons, I’ll bet.”

“How are all the people going to travel back to their villages if the roads could be infested with hounds?” Castiel asked.

“If I may, your Majesties,” Jo said. Meg nodded at her to give her permission to talk. “Perhaps this will be a new task to assign to the King’s Militia. They can escort the villagers that fled back to rebuild their homes and they can remain vigilant in case a hound attacks.”

“That’s a great idea, but we need to do more than defend ourselves,” Meg replied. “We need to actively hunt them into extinction. Send word that I will personally reward anyone who brings me the head or the pelt of one of Crowley’s hounds.”

Everybody agreed that was the best course of action. Abaddon opened her mouth to move on to the next topic, but Meg was still looking at the map attentively.

“Could Cain have been attacked by a Leviathan or a hound?”

A tense silence fell in the tent. As the day had gone by, the knight’s absence had become first an inconvenience and then a mystery. No one knew where he had gone or why hadn’t he come back. The last thing they knew was that he had left the castle, but afterwards he had vanished without a trace.

“It’s… not entirely impossible,” Abaddon said.

“Then he might be hurt,” Castiel pointed out. “I think we should organize a search party for him…”

“If he was merely hurt, he would have tied himself to his horse and kept going,” Meg sighed. “No. I fear the worst might have happened to him. I know that man and I can’t explain his absence in any other way.”

Castiel squeezed her hand tight and Meg forced herself to smile at him.

“I will give him a year to come back,” she decided. “If he hasn’t, we’ll mourn him in absence and build a monolith in his honor here in the Valley when he saved us all by killing Crowley.”

Nobody protested, though Cain’s disappearance would remain a mystery even so. The only person who could have shed some light on it refused to, even though Castiel had asked her directly.

“You shouldn’t be moving so much, my king,” Ruby had said when he had found her outside of Charlie’s tent. “You still need rest to recover.”

Castiel paid no attention to her. The truth was that after a few days more in bed and some plentiful meals, he had recovered almost all of his energy. He still needed to be careful with the burn in his chest, keeping it bandaged so bad humors didn’t get in, and he used crutches to move with his broken leg, but besides that, Charlie had given permission to come out of the tent and walk around the camp when he pleased.

He did this a lot at night. Meg always left him after they had dinner and he spent hours lying with his eyes open, staring at the tent’s ceiling. He couldn’t sleep and when he did, he woke with sweat on his skin and his heart almost jumping out of his chest. He never remembered the nightmares when he did, but he always needed a moment to remind himself he was alive. They had won. Meg was safe. Their daughter was safe.

Charlie had assured him many soldiers felt like that after a horrible battle and that he would learn to manage it. Meg had looked at him gravely and said she could find a way to fend the bad dreams off once they were at home- But in the meantime, he paced outside as much as his body managed to take him.

“I was looking for you, Seer,” he confessed.

“You have questions,” Ruby stated, arching an eyebrow.

“Just the one,” Castiel said. “Will we see Cain again?”

“No.”

It was a simple, blunt answer and Castiel didn’t know why it surprised him. He had already suspected as much.

“But why do you ask?” Ruby inquired. “He was your rival, he disliked you immensely and so did you…”

“I don’t know if I knew him enough to dislike him,” Castiel replied. “I know I feel like I should thank him for… something. I’m not entirely sure what.”

Ruby nodded, as if that made sense to her even though it didn’t for Castiel.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, my king, Cain was at peace with his choice,” she told him. “And so is the queen.”

Castiel hadn’t asked that, but he realized he was glad to hear it. And he was also inclined to agree: Meg looked more peaceful those days than she had in a long time. She and the other women on the Council, the Mother Moon priestesses, spent time talking to the wounded soldiers and offering them consolation and blessings. When she wasn’t doing that, she was organizing the party that would go after the Leviathans.

“Lady Abaddon, you will take over sir Cain’s knights. I give you the choice to name your second in command to replace him.”

“Thank you, my queen. I will try to choose wisely,” Abaddon said. She made no effort to hide she was looking directly at Jo, but the girl either didn’t realize or politely chose to ignore it.

In any case, if Abaddon was already impressed with Jo, she would be even more after the next few months.

“You’re going with them?” Castiel asked. He would have thought that after the war was won and her father avenged, she would go home. Perhaps try to find a husband, but he didn’t want to insult her by suggesting anything of the sort.

“My abilities will be needed against the Leviathans,” Jo replied, with a shrug, as she continued to ready up her horse. “The best way I can serve the kingdom is this.”

“Your mother will not be happy about it, Lady Harvelle,” Meg pointed out.

“No, I suppose she won’t,” Jo said, with a snort. “Which is why you’re the only person who can get away with giving her the news and not have her head chewed up, my queen.”

Meg simply laughed out loud. Castiel hopped towards Jo in his crutches and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful out there, my friend.”

Jo looked at him sadly for a moment, but then she grinned confidently.

“I will come back to celebrate your daughter’s first birthday, my king. That is a promise.”

She was about to turn around and leave when Charlie came running, half dragging a donkey behind her that was carrying her tent and the rest of her baggage.

“Lady Harvelle, wait!” she shouted. “I’m sorry, it was just really hard to get everything ready without my helpers. Do you mind if I ride with you?”

“What about your horse?” Jo asked her.

“I gave it to Krissy,” Charlie explained. “She’s riding back to her father’s house. And as for Josephine, well… she said the queen offered her a position at the castle.”

“You did?” Castiel asked, turning to Meg with surprise.

“Yes, well, Selene is going to need a nurse,” Meg said, avoiding his gaze. Castiel knew right away that she had taken to the girl that had prayed day and night for his survival next to his bed.

“Lady Abaddon told me I could come as long as I found someone to ride with or they would leave me behind,” the healer kept explaining. “I would have to tie _Paladin_ to your saddle, but I promise, he’s very gently and he can keep up with any pace, so you don’t have to worry about him slowing you down…”

Jo seemed a little amused at how flustered Charlie was. After _Paladin_ was firmly tied, Jo offered her a hand and almost picked her up to sit behind her.

“So what say you, healer? Are you excited to see the Northern Mountains?”

“Not particularly, but I heard there are some bushes that grow there that you can’t come by anywhere else in the kingdom and I was wondering if they would have some sort of practical application…”

Their chatter extinguished in the distance while Meg and Castiel watched them leave with a smile.

That wasn’t the only departure that broke Castiel’s heart a little bit. Dean had to head the part of the Angeli forces that had decided to go along with Abaddon. The rest of them would be returning to Angelia with Gabriel and Sam.

“Don’t look so sad, little brother. We’ll go back to the castle with you to pick up our stuff before we leave,” Gabriel said. “But we have to leave soon. There are some… laws about inheritance and successions that need a little twitching and I better get on with it before Selene comes of age.”

“The church is not going to like it,” Sam pointed out.

“No, they will not. Which is why you’re doing all the writing, dear.”

Sam tried to look exasperated, but he failed. He was just too happy to see Gabriel again. But his smile did disappear as he turned to hug Dean.

“Farewell, brother.”

“Until we meet again,” Dean said, smiling to lighten up the moment. He hugged Castiel clumsily because of the crutches and shook Gabriel’s hand before climbing on his horse. “Oh, and if you see my wife, tell her to name the child Benjamin if it’s a boy.”

He didn’t need to clarify who he was honoring by requesting that. He sank the heels on his horse and joined the procession of soldiers and knights that were gathering up around Abaddon.

And just like, there was nothing left for them to do and no one else to say goodbye to.

“Do you think there’s any way we can convince Meg to throw a banquet in our honor?” Gabriel speculated.

“Doubtful. With all the people she’s had to feed and the work in the fields and the shore paralyzed by the war, there’s bound to be some scarcity,” Sam pointed out.

“Why do I like you, again?” Gabriel asked, frowning at him. But Sam only beamed and a moment later, Gabriel’s irritation was completely gone. “Oh, you’re impossible. You don’t mind if I ride with him, don’t you, little brother? With you there, the carriage might get a little cramped.”

Castiel tried not to look euphoric at the prospect of finally having some time alone with Meg. Especially because he knew that Ruby would be travelling with them and…

He was pleasantly surprised when it turned out Ruby was taking a horse along with Josephine.

“You need space to stretch out your leg, my king, and I need to educate this girl in some of the castle’s uses,” Ruby pointed out. The smirk she gave him, however, seemed to signal she knew exactly this was what Castiel had been hoping for. She helped him get in, placed his crutches on the side and left.

A moment later, Meg slid inside with Selene in her arms and leaned her head back against the seat as the page closed the door.

“Hello,” Castiel said, smiling at her.

“Don’t speak so loud,” she shushed him. “I finally got her to sleep.”

Selene was resting, so peaceful among her covers that Castiel doubted even having another battle raging outside would have woken her up. He stretched his hands and Meg immediately gave her to him. Castiel have been nervous carrying her the first few times (she was so small and fragile, he had to be extremely careful), but now he was getting the hang of it.

He could stare at her for hours. It felt like a small miracle, to have her weight in his arms, hear her breathing and her wailing whenever she woke up. She was demanding and impatient, a little like her mother. She had his eyes. Castiel had never loved something or someone as much as he did her. And everything that had led to that moment (the losses, the pain, the fear, the nightmares) was worth it only for her.

“You’re a sap,” Meg teased him, as she leaned her chin on his shoulder. “What would your soldiers say? Their mighty king, their war hero, brought down to his knees by a little girl.”

“I’m not a hero,” Castiel muttered.

“No? Everyone who rode with you had nothing but words of admiration,” Meg pointed out with a snicker. “Your strategy, your bravery. Castiel Ironheart, they’re calling you.”

She placed her hand right above the wound still in his chest. Charlie had done the best to cure it, but she had warned him it would leave a permanent scar. Castiel gripped his wife’s hand and kissed her knuckles.

“Not that bad a name,” he commented.

“No,” Meg agreed. “But I still prefer to call you mine.”

Castiel turned to look at her. Her eyes were glimmering and her smile was soft and warm. She placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him closer. Castiel parted his lips to receive the kiss, his heart speeding up until the carriage passed on a stone on the road that separated them brusquely and woke Selene.

“Yes, there’s going to be quite a bit of that,” Meg commented as their daughter let out a soft cry solely gaining intensity.

Castiel laughed and put an arm around Meg’s shoulder to hold his family close.

“Let’s go home.”


End file.
